Through Ice and Shadows
by wynteralchemyst
Summary: "She caught his attention from the beginning." Elsa was a strange girl - a mystery to be uncovered. Pitch Black saw the potential of darkness and destruction in her, but for the solitary Jack Frost, Elsa was something more - something that pulled at him and drew him on, something impossible and inevitable. She was beautiful and sad, and he loved her before he knew it was too late.
1. Forged From Darkness

**A/N: I just had to add a fic about this - the art I've seen about this has been so, so adorable, and I just LOVE the idea of Elsa and Jack together.**

**Believe it or not, this chapter was the extent of my original idea. As I began writing, though, I realized that it wasn't enough - there needed to be at least one more chapter, to finish what I'd put the characters through. So if the muse hits me - and if enough people like it - I'll be coming out with another chapter real soon. :)**

**Common disclaimers apply.**

* * *

She caught his attention from the beginning.

Pitch Black always believed that children were easy to torment and to frighten. They feared so much - monsters, isolation, the cold - but above all, darkness. It was so simple, so wonderfully easy to nudge a hint of fear into their heads. A flicker of shadow, a noise where there oughtn't be, and he was rewarded by a shriek of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Nightmares," parents told their children soothingly. "It was just a nightmare." And Pitch, looking on in the darkness, would smile. _If so_, he thought, _then I am the king of nightmares_.

Every child was susceptible. Every child was weak. Predictable. It pleased him and yet, every couple decades or so, Pitch nearly wished for something more.

And then he found her.

Elsa, the eldest princess of the kingdom of Arendelle.

Pitch stood at the foot of her bed, his chin perched on the knuckles of one hand. What to make of this little girl? He had been observing her for a while and found himself almost... uncertain.

"You are unusual, aren't you?" he murmured aloud, but it was true; Elsa had almost no similarities to any other child he had encountered. The cold did not bother her, nor did isolation, for she had been living in the self-imposed prison of her room for years now without complaint. Pitch's chief weapon, darkness, had little impact on the girl, and as for monsters -

Well. Pitch's golden eyes flickered over the girl's sleeping form, appraising the guilt inside Elsa's mind. Perhaps there was something inside her he could use after all.

But not yet.

Pitch knew a prize when he saw one, so he waited. He watched her from the shadows as she grew from a young girl into a woman. Normally he had no power over adults - they were too rational, without the imagination or curiosity to give his nightmares any influence - so he left them alone. Elsa, though, was different. She had plenty of imagination, but it had been suppressed and packed away in the back of her mind. She was worried about other things, like learning politics, economics, law and policy - all the things she would need to know to rule Arendelle one day.

And she was worried about her powers. She tried not to let it show, but Pitch knew. Elsa was a bundle of nerves beneath her calm exterior, and it would only be a matter of time before she cracked under the pressure. Pitch wanted to be there when it happened.

Elsa was strong, though - stronger than Pitch at first assumed. She held herself together when her parents perished at sea, and though her powers became more unpredictable than ever, she maintained control. Then her coronation day came and Elsa's restraint slipped. She turned the entire fjord to solid ice and escaped into the mountains, naively certain that exile would relieve her of her concerns. Her sister - the insufferable Anna, who was such a pleasure to torture when she was younger - came and was injured by another slip in Elsa's control. Pitch was tempted to interject then and there, but his instincts urged him to wait. _There will be more_, he thought as he watched the queen pace under the crystal chandelier. _There always is_.

And he was right. Elsa was captured and imprisoned. The arrogant prince, who had recklessly shown his true colors too early, attempted to murder Elsa - only to be stopped by Anna, who blocked the killing blow as she turned to ice.

_And good riddance to her_, Pitch thought, bored as the prince tripped all over himself in astonishment and Elsa began to cry. No matter how many times Elsa begged and pleaded, and despite all the desperate attempts to unfreeze her sister, Anna stayed a perfect statue of blue carven ice.

"That's right, it _was_ your fault," Pitch murmured as Elsa finally dropped her hand from her sister's cheek and turned away. "You were the one who killed her. She would be alive except for you."

Elsa looked up at Hans, crouched on the ground, and over at the young blond man standing by his reindeer. "This was my doing," she said, and wiped the tears from her eyes. They sparkled like diamonds, the salty tears already turned to chips of ice in her hands. "This is my fault."

"No," the blond man began, but Elsa shook her head.

"If it wasn't for me, if it wasn't for my powers..." She paused, then looked back over her shoulder at Anna. "I won't put anyone in danger ever again."

"But - " The blond man caught Elsa's arm as she strode past. She flinched and pulled out of his grip. "But Arendelle needs you!" he called after her.

"No, it doesn't. _No, it doesn't_." Elsa began to run, her eyes squeezing shut. "I'm nothing but a - a _monster_!"

Pitch smiled as he watched her go. "Yes," he murmured, "you most certainly are."

Elsa ran far - further than the North Mountain, further than any human searchers could go. For a while Pitch wondered if she might run all the way to the North Pole - _that_ would have complicated things. He certainly didn't need the idealistic and disgustingly optimistic St. North intruding into his endeavors - but Elsa stopped before she got that far, in the mountains that bordered the edge of her country. There she created a cave in the sheer cliffside and waited, facing ever towards the outside world.

She expected a search party, so Pitch left her alone. He left her to her isolation, to her grief, and to her melancholy. He waited until he saw the defeat in her eyes before he knew it was time to reveal himself.

She had never seen him before - she never had a reason to. She had never feared him or his tricks, and he knew she did not fear him now. But as Elsa looked up at him from her position on the ground, he saw recognition. Acceptance. He was the embodiment of fallen hopes and ruined dreams, and she believed in that more than anything.

"You're Pitch Black," she said softly.

He gave her a mocking bow. "And you're the queen of Arendelle."

"No, I'm not." She looked away from him. "I don't deserve to be the queen of anything."

"Oh, I doubt that very much." He clasped his hands behind his back and took a casual step toward her. "I've heard you're gifted at manipulating ice and snow."

"Manipulate?" she echoed hollowly. "I can't control it, I can't restrain it. You speak as if it's under my power, but it isn't. I've never been able to - "

"Ah ah," he said softly, "not so fast. What about your talk of 'letting go'? You once made a palace of ice and a living defender to guard it."

"It was a fluke," she said flatly. "And it doesn't matter, because I wasn't able to use my powers when I needed them."

"Ah yes," he said. "To save your sister. Yet it was you, I believe, that put the ice in her heart to begin with." Pitch waited for the wince he knew would come, but Elsa only dropped her eyes. _Good_, he thought. "Well, you know why you did it, of course."

That surprised her. Elsa twisted around, her blue eyes bright. "W-What?" she gasped, almost as if she were her old self again. "It wasn't - it wasn't a _conscious_ decision - "

"Regardless." He pretended to inspect the fingernails of his left hand. "You reacted because you were scared."

"I wasn't - "

He laughed. "Oh, you were. I know fear, your highness, and you were afraid."

Her eyes narrowed. "I was not afraid of Anna."

"No, not of her. _No one_ could be afraid of _her_." He raised an eyebrow. "But you were scared."

She blinked. "...yes," she said slowly. "I was."

"Then who were you afraid of? Hans? The soldiers? The _party guests_?"

"No... no, I wasn't afraid of any of them."

"Then who was it?"

"...me," Elsa admitted quietly. "I was afraid of myself. What I could do."

His eyes flickered over to her, then away. "So you think that barricading yourself here will help," he stated.

She looked up at him. Whether she really didn't have an answer for him, or if she just wasn't used to hearing sarcasm, he couldn't say. She only looked at him.

Pitch dropped his hand, abandoning the pretense. "How long would you say you've been here?" he asked, turning away. "How long would you guess that you've been waiting for someone - anyone - to come and drag you back to Arendelle?"

Elsa blinked. She looked down at her hands, which were clasped around her knees. She slowly shook her head. "I... I don't - "

"I'll tell you: fifty years."

Her head shot up, disbelief written across her face. "What? But that's - "

"Impossible? No." He glanced over at her. "You've become something of a legend in your country, highness. A girl with the power of winter? No, it can't be true. Some of the elderly swear they've seen you, but most of the younger generations know better."

Elsa stared at him.

"You've become a bedtime story, a tale told over the fire, a late night whisper. It really was rather stunning how infamous you've become, and how quickly."

"But... what about..." Elsa swallowed. "... Anna?"

He gave her an indifferent look. "What do you think ice does? It _melts_."

Her mouth slowly fell open in horror.

"And your kingdom?" He flicked his hand. "Moved on. It didn't really need you to run it, you know."

Elsa looked away. There were tears shining at the edges of her eyes, but they didn't fall. "Did anyone try to come after me?"

"A few. The howling storm stopped them from getting very far, though."

She nodded, but it was a cheerless motion. "So that's it," she said in a dead voice. "Everyone I love is gone. I'm still alive, but to all the world I'm just a rumor." She shut her eyes. "I'm not even real anymore."

"Oh, you're very real. Your powers should be proof of that."

"But everyone is afraid - "

"And is that so terrible?" Pitch turned to face her. "Your abilities are too strange, too _treacherous_ for everyone else, and that's why they fear you." He paused for effect. "But not me."

Elsa opened her eyes.

Pitch held out his hand. Later on he wondered why he decided to demonstrate his powers to her, and why he spoke to her the way he did. He hadn't needed her, then. He hadn't even wanted her, really. He wrote it off as instinct again, and yet that wasn't it. Not completely.

In that moment, when the shadows twisted and congealed in his hand and when the darkness arched and curled behind him like a cloak, he saw an expression on Elsa's face that was familiar: the stirrings of hope.

He had worn that look once, long ago.

"I, too, have a power that is feared," he said gravely. "Over time, I learned to accept and control it. It does not dominate me anymore." He clenched his fist, extinguishing the shadow's weak life. "Nor will it, ever again."

Interest kindled in Elsa's face, and recognition. "We... are similar," Elsa said slowly. She stood up and brushed the lingering snowflakes from the folds of her skirt, looking at him all the while.

"I suppose," he said diffidently, but she was right.

Yet Elsa was sharper than he'd suspected, and she asked carefully, "did you lose someone, once?"

Pitch stilled. For a moment he was silent, frozen by the thought -

No, it didn't matter. _It doesn't matter_. He shook off his uneasiness and the distant, long-buried sorrow. He purged the memory and glanced sideways at Elsa, all his darkness and acerbity funneling into a single word. "_No_."

He turned away. Elsa hurried after him. "If I am just a story, then the people must not remember much about me," she said.

"They remember enough," he told her shortly. "To them, you are the Snow Queen."

"Snow Queen," Elsa murmured. She glanced at him and Pitch had to suppress his smile. Yes, he knew what she was thinking. _The King of Nightmares and the Snow Queen. How quaint_.

"But then... fifty years... " Elsa slowed. Pitch looked back at her. She was studying her slim white hands. "How could... won't I...?"

"Die?" he supplied, and her eyes darted up to meet his. "No, I shouldn't think so." He gave her a knowing look. "You see, legends never die, so long as they're believed in."

"Believed in?" she echoed.

Then Pitch did smile. "Yes. And by the time we're through, _everyone_ will believe in you."

* * *

And so Elsa went with him.

Pitch Black was a strange companion. Actual conversation between them was few and far between - instead, he was silent and ever-watchful, his true thoughts as elusive as the very shadows he retained. He had very little in the way of actual instructions for controlling her powers. Eventually Pitch admitted that he could not say how, exactly, he learned to rule the darkness - just that it had been slowly, over time. If Elsa was intimately familiar with both her capabilities and her limitations, then there was a chance she could learn how to restrain the storm beneath her skin.

So, as Elsa traveled with Pitch, she tested them. Like a muscle that had never before been properly used, Elsa felt a part of her grow stronger as the years raced on. She could not explain to Pitch where she felt the control exactly - whether it was in her will, in her heart, or if it was simply a delusion of her mind - but she _felt_ stronger. And that gave her some courage.

That pleased Pitch, too.

Elsa did not deceive herself about the nature of his long absences, or the reason for their lengthy travels. Pitch was the Nightmare King - the Bogeyman. It was his self-appointed duty to frighten children and ignite fear. It was what he did - he _had_ to, in a way; it was what kept him breathing. Elsa knew it, but deep down she did not like it. She did not watch Pitch at his work, for the expressions of the children's faces chilled her like nothing could. Sometimes she thought she could hear their screams far in the distance where she stood at the edge of town, and she wondered what it was they were afraid of - what Pitch was using to torment them this time.

Sometimes, every once in a while, Elsa thought she heard Anna's screams.

_Forget_, Pitch had told her. _It only hurts to remember_. And as she'd met his gaze, Elsa knew he was right. Her memories of Anna, and the regrets - so very many regrets - always managed to undo her years of work and make her control turn fragile. The nostalgia piled on her, suffocating her, until Pitch had to come and snap her out of her misery.

It was easier not to remember.

So Elsa did not. She did not think about her sister, her parents, and Arendelle. She did not think about the past, and her power grew. Finally she was the master of her abilities and _herself_, and she did not need Pitch's aid. He smiled at her when she demonstrated her mastery and, when she was done, he tilted her chin up so he could whisper in her ear, "well done, highness."

And Elsa knew that Pitch was proud to have her at his side.

His Snow Queen.

And she was satisfied to be with him.

It was only a little while later, though, that she met _him_.

Elsa could not say what year it was, precisely - Pitch, so meticulous and far-minded, could always keep track of the passing years, though to Elsa it was like trying to pick out the individual snowflakes of a raging storm; not impossible, but difficult - when she stood there, on that bridge, looking over the city. It was not yet dawn, and the crystals of ice sparkled in the faint light - her handiwork, to aid Pitch in his nightly rounds. The city was built around a crescent-shaped harbor, with distant mountains to the north, all peaked in snow. It could have been Arendelle, _almost_, Elsa thought, looking down over the winding streets. _But it is not_. The landscape was all wrong, the buildings too different. It was not Arendelle.

For a moment, though, she wished it was.

A gentle gust of wind blew against her back, pulling against the ice-spun fabric of her train and teasing the snowflakes from her braid. She felt rather than saw someone land down behind her, the soft _tap_ of a staff against the stone bridge the only indication that it wasn't Pitch. "I guess nature beat me to it," a man said, striding to the edge of the bridge and looking down. He chuckled a little. "Some of those cobbles look pretty slippery, though. That's good."

Elsa glanced over at him. The silver hair and death-pale cheeks marked him as no human. _This must be Jack Frost_, she thought, tracing the delicate swirls of ice on the hem of his brown cloak with her eyes. Pitch had mentioned him a few times in passing.

"It wasn't," she said softly. "Mother Nature, I mean."

Jack looked over at her, then suddenly froze, blue eyes wide. _He isn't a man_, Elsa thought, noting the childlike sparkle in his eyes. _He's a boy. A teenager, at most_.

"You can... see me?" he asked. The hopeful note in his voice made her smile a little.

"I'm not a human," she said gently, and his face fell. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "It's okay. It - It doesn't matter. I guess I'm just not used to being... invisible, yet."

"Being invisible has its advantages," she said, turning back to look over the city. Over the water, the sky was beginning to lighten, turning the clouds above the mountains a blushing pink. "You can't get close to anyone, so the partings hurt less. If you don't care about anyone, then you aren't a threat - not to them, and not to yourself."

"That's... that's terrible," Jack said. When Elsa turned to look at him, his hand tightened around his staff. "You have to care about - well, something," he said. "What's the fun in a life where you don't love anything?"

"I don't need love," Elsa said dismissively, turning away again.

"_Everyone_ needs something to love!" Jack burst out. His eyes were so fierce, so assured, and Elsa stared at him in amazement.

Quickly the fire died in Jack's expression and his gaze fell. "At least, that's what I think. I'm... I'm trying to find my purpose here, too."

She opened her mouth to contradict him, but after a moment or two, she slowly closed it again. He was right, in a way. She had a purpose, here with Pitch, but it wasn't... it wasn't _her_ purpose.

They stood there in silence, watching the growing light touch the slanted, frosty rooftops. Elsa could see Jack fidgeting at her side until finally he blurted, "sorry. For, you know, arguing with you."

A smile curved the corner of her lips. "It's alright."

"I don't even think I've introduced myself. Wow, I'm such an ass - er, _asinine_ jerk." He cringed, glancing over at her. "Sorry."

Her smile only widened.

"I'm Jack Frost," he said.

The words came out before she could stop them. "Elsa."

"Elsa," Jack echoed.

"The Snow Queen," she clarified, looking up into his eyes.

"So hey, you must know some great snow tricks and techniques," he said, grinning.

The memory of Olaf leapt to her mind, but Elsa brushed it away. "No," she said quietly, "I don't. I'm not really concerned with having fun."

Jack said nothing, but Elsa could feel him watching her as she looked back over the city. The sun was just cresting the distant sea, shards of light bouncing across the waves and onto the shore. In the rising brightness, the flakes of snow and ice sparkled. The cobblestones glinted in a pearly sheen, and the mountains began to glow with the incandescence of the heavens' glory.

"This is my favorite part," Elsa murmured reverently. "The light, the stillness. I couldn't ask for more."

"You could," Jack replied, equally quiet. "You could ask for something to live for."

Elsa stiffened.

"I mean, the sunrise is nice - it really is," he said, looking sideways at her. "But it won't make you happy. Not for long."

"I don't need happiness," she whispered.

"Everyone needs happiness." Jack leaned on his staff and smiled gently at her. "Even someone as sad and beautiful as you."

Elsa looked over at him. Jack's cheeks were flushed - probably he hadn't meant to say that last part aloud - but he held her gaze.

_Maybe he's right_, Elsa wondered, looking into his honest, confident face. There was no lurking darkness, no bitterness in his eyes, and Elsa realized then that she had missed that. _Maybe I do need to find something that makes me happy_.

For a moment, Elsa allowed herself to imagine a life lived Jack's way. There would be plenty of adventures and excitement, and she would laugh more, because everything would seem more fun. She would care, really care, about herself and the world. Her powers would be chaotic again and might threaten to overwhelm her, but did it really matter when she felt so _alive_? Perhaps Jack could help her find something to love, something that would become her purpose...

It was a perfect image, and Elsa held it close, relishing it, before letting it fade slowly away. _That will never happen_, she thought. _I am with Pitch now - he was the one who helped me collect myself and move on. He helped me gain what strength I have. Caring about things only limits you, and becomes a burden. I cannot abandon the control I've achieved. I will not._

_ Still, what Jack said... perhaps there is some merit in it, too._

"Thank you," she told him.

Jack only shrugged. "I'm just telling the truth."

"Even so, I'm grateful." Elsa smiled a little. "I have never smiled so much as I have with you."

He raised his eyebrows. "Wow, really? Because you've barely smiled at all."

Without replying, Elsa reached up to lightly brush the edge of his jaw. The moment her fingertips touched his skin, a pattern of frozen fractals bloomed icy blue against his cheek. "Thank you," she said again, softer this time.

Jack curled his fingers around her wrist, holding her hand in place. "You don't have to leave," he said.

"I do. Pitch will be waiting for me."

His eyes narrowed slightly in recognition of the name, but no more. "You don't have to stay with him."

Elsa smiled sadly. She trailed her thumb back and forth across his skin. It was nearly the same shade of frosty white as her own, and she marveled at it. Who _was_ this boy, this Jack Frost, that he could say such dangerously candid things to her, that he did not hesitate to bare his heart before her? Not even Pitch had ever been so earnest. How could Jack have any real feelings for her, when they had only met ten minutes ago?

And who was this boy, that he could spark the same emotions in her? For she _did_ feel something - a rhythm between them. The moment they had touched, Elsa felt her heart fall into beat with his own, felt their breaths synchronize as his eyes looked into hers. With Jack, Elsa felt _connected_. Together, they belonged. Like puzzle pieces of a greater whole, they fit together seamlessly. She was his. He was hers. They could not be parted, and any thought of separation from him - from this perceptive, thoughtful, funny, kind, _dear_ boy - was so painful that her heart quailed within her chest -

_Don't feel_. A broken piece of the familiar mantra came back to her, startlingly clear despite the many years that had passed. _It will be for the best_.

Elsa looked away from Jack. "If only," she said quietly, pulling her arm away. "I wish we had met earlier. Things might have been... well, they might have been different."

"They still could," he said, but she only turned away.

"Goodbye, Jack," Elsa said. She left him standing on the bridge, his face upturned in the golden morning light as he watched her go.

Pitch Black was waiting for her when she arrived at their meeting place in the forest, further inland. "What kept you?" he demanded as she stepped gracefully toward him.

"The sunrise," she told him truthfully. She had learned long ago not to lie to Pitch.

"Is that so?" he said, giving her one of his cold looks. "Well, it's getting a little too bright for me. Shall we?"

"Yes," Elsa said.

There must have been something in her face, or maybe her voice, that caused Pitch to pause. "I don't know what you see in them," he said, turning back to face her. "All mornings look the same to me."

"This one was different," she said quietly. she refused to let herself glance back at the bridge, but the temptation was there all the same.

"Yes, it was," Pitch mused. He stepped close to her and placed a finger against her temple. He slowly traced the curvature of her face down to her chin, speaking all the while. "I've decided to try something _different_. An exploration of the possibilities of our powers, you might say. Think you're up for it?"

Elsa met his eyes. Pitch was looking at his hand against her skin, his ashy pigment a striking contrast against her frosty paleness. Dark and ice. What goes better, after all? "Yes," she told him.

His golden eyes flickered up to meet hers. He tipped her chin up sharply. "Good," he said, ignoring her soft gasp. "Then let's have no more distractions by the sun anymore." He released her and spun away. His tall, elegant form vanished swiftly into the shadows of the nearest tree, leaving Elsa alone in the glade.

_I suppose I will never see Jack Frost again_, she thought, only then letting herself look back. The dark branches of the forest blotted out everything except a single shining tower in the distance, and Elsa gazed at it for a long moment. _I was lucky just to see him once. I should be satisfied with that_.

It was true, but the thought still made her sad.

Sad and beautiful, Jack had called her.

_Then again, the future can bring many things_, Elsa thought and she turned to follow the Nightmare King into the shadows. _Maybe Pitch will cross his path._

_Maybe I will get to see him again._

_ Jack Frost_.

She smiled.


	2. Brittle as Ice

**A/N: Well, my muse hit me again, because here's another chapter!**

**Thank you so, so much for all the follows, favorites, and reviews. I sent replies to everyone who reviewed under their name, but for all of you guests out there, please know that I really, really appreciated your comments and love. They absolutely helped me write this chapter faster. :)**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

Pitch Black was a gifted teacher.

From him, Elsa learned many things - things strange and dark, things she never could have imagined on her own. He taught her how to shape the ice, how to twist it and mold it into illusions, into a weapon. He taught her how to thin the snowfall until it was nothing more than shadowless fog, and change it in a second's notice into minute needles. She learned to make a shield and animated decoys, each with the same deadly aim as their creator.

"Good," Pitch said approvingly as he watched her practice. "Very good, your highness."

She inclined her head, her chest heaving with exertion. "Thank you."

"Now..." He stepped to her side and placed his hand on top of hers, his long tapered fingers fitting exactly over her own. "...do it again."

With his powers combined with hers, Elsa's strength doubled. The ice flew faster, the edges cut deeper, and the illusions were more menacing. The sight alone of pristine ice coalesced with swirling trails of darkness sent a small chill skittering down her spine.

Pitch only laughed. "Look at what we can do together!" He strode forward to lovingly stroke the smooth surface of the barrier they had constructed. "Beautiful," he murmured. "No one will have the strength to stand against me now."

Elsa watched him at a distance and tried not to notice the menacing shadows their combined creations left on the ground. She was glad he was pleased, really - but something about the mixture of their powers made her hands shake.

It _scared_ her.

She clenched her hands, forcing the emotion away. "Who would oppose you?" she asked Pitch. He did not respond, but Elsa did not have to think hard to guess the answer.

The Guardians.

He railed, ranted and fumed about them. It was strange, for in all of Elsa's years with Pitch, she had never seen him appear so passionately furious about anything. He was almost irrational in his hatred of them, and it made her wonder what they had done to infuriate him so.

Pitch never answered her direct questions - he just gave her a burning glare every time she asked - but little by little, Elsa was able to piece together a skeletal framework of who the Guardians were: bitter enemies of the Nightmare King all the way back to the beginning, reaching back to someone who called himself the Man in the Moon.

"I didn't know there was such a thing," Elsa commented quietly after one of his streams of curses and complaints.

"Oh, he's real," Pitch spat. "I tried to kill him , but he survived. Now he's sending his precious Guardians to make a mess of things and get in my way."

Elsa stared at him. His words, cold and bitter, filled her with dread. "And you still want to kill him?" she asked softly. "You want to kill... the Guardians?"

"Of course I do, I want to - " Pitch stopped, his eyes on her. "Oh. Oh, I see." The words dissolved into chuckles as he took a step toward her. "You don't like that, do you? the idea of _killing_ anyone."

Elsa swallowed. "I thought wanted to scare children," she said. "I didn't know you... participated in murder."

"_Participated_?" Pitch echoed, grinning. "Normally, no - but I'm not above trying in order to meet certain ends."

She pressed her eyes closed for a long moment. "Well, I won't do it," she said. Her eyes snapped open and she fixed him with a firm look. "I won't kill anyone for you. Promise me you will not force me to."

He only looked at her, his ochre eyes unblinking. Measuring her.

"Promise me," she pressed, emotion making her voice waver. She had never demanded anything from him before, and she wondered how he might react. He had to agree. She couldn't kill someone. She couldn't -

Something constricted inside her at the thought, right in the center of her chest. Pitch had to agree. He _had_ to.

The Nightmare King did not speak for several seconds, his gaze locked with Elsa's. Then, abruptly, he shrugged. "You are useful, but I won't need you for t_hat_, highness."

He turned away from her, and Elsa let out a slow sigh. The pressure in her chest eased, and suddenly she felt lighter, almost - _well, not_ happy, she thought, taking another soft breath, _but better_.

The relief only lasted for a few days.

They had arrived just outside the city Pitch had selected to haunt - a nice village up in the mountains, with a great lake nearby - when Pitch stopped in mid-stride. He turned his head slowly to look up, and what he saw made him stiffen. Elsa looked between the trees, following his gaze, but could see nothing. "What - ?" she began.

Pitch's arm shot up, his hand forbidding speech with a quick, sharp motion, and Elsa's jaw snapped closed. Pitch remained perfectly still for a few more seconds, then dropped his hand. "Of course. I should have expected, this high up," he seethed in a low whisper.

Elsa tried again, softer this time. "What is it?"

He looked back over his shoulder at her, annoyance at having to explain clear on his face. "Yeti. St. North's spies. They've gone to tell him we're here."

"I see," Elsa said, though she didn't entirely - Nicholas St. North had been mentioned numberless times along with the hated title _Guardian_, but she'd never heard anything about a _yeti_ before.

Pitch looked away. "Go freeze the lake down there and then get out of sight," he ordered. "I'd rather introduce you to St. North on my own terms and not his."

"Yes," Elsa said obediently. She negotiated her way between the trees and down to the lake's edge. Careful to keep her dress out of the way, she hunched down and pressed her hand against the surface of the water. White ice crystals bloomed at her touch, radiating outward until the entire lake was frozen solid. Elsa allowed herself to smile a little as she climbed to her feet. She never admired her handiwork much, but it was pretty. The lake sparkled, reflecting the moon's light. The sight of it triggered a memory, hazy from neglect: pearly cobblestones, sun-touched mountains, and icy rooftops.

And a boy.

"I didn't ask you to admire the view," Pitch hissed. He strode past her, his firm hand pushing Elsa to one side as he went. His golden eyes glared accusingly at her. "Now get back behind a tree and _stay there_ until I call you."

Elsa wordlessly gathered her snowflake train in her arms and climbed up the snowy bank. She ducked into the shelter of the trees and hid herself in the shadows before turning back to watch. Pitch was standing in the middle of the lake, his hands clasped behind his back. Waiting.

When St. North arrived, it was quickly - like the first snowflake of an approaching winter storm. One moment Pitch was alone, the light from the lake making his eyes shine, cat-like, in the night, and then a tall, red-cloaked man was striding out onto the ice. The heels of his sturdy winter boots clicked with each step, and there was a glint from the two curved swords in his hands. But his face... against Pitch's instructions, Elsa leaned around the tree and squinted, trying to see better. North was old - in his sixties, at least - but his rosy cheeks and enormous stomach looked almost... jolly. Elsa wasn't sure what she had expected a Guardian to be, but it wasn't this older man.

He reminded her of her grandfather, before he died.

"The Yetis told me they had seen you, but I did not believe," St. North called, stopping a cautious distance from Pitch. To Elsa's surprise, he was grinning. "Now, I believe."

"Sorry if I disappointed you - " Pitch began.

"You're not," North interjected cheerily.

"No," he agreed. "But tell me, since when did your hairy spies take up an outpost here? Surely they have some better things to do - clean out the reindeer stables, perhaps?"

"I ask them look for you," he said, ignoring the jibe. "You are very active now - more than before."

"What did you expect?"

"The children are not happy. Therefore, I am not happy." St. North shrugged one shoulder, his fingers tapping idly against the pommel of his engraved sword. "But now, I ask nice: stop."

"Really? You're going to ask me to stop? Just like that?" Pitch snorted. "_Please_. It's not even close to Christmas - have you been at the milk and cookies again?"

"Not just at Christmas!" he objected. Behind the tree, Elsa's eyes widened. _Christmas_. But then, he must be...

Father Christmas.

Santa Claus.

"I will not ask again," North warned.

Now it was Pitch's turn to shrug, albeit disdainfully. "You shouldn't have asked. You know me better than that, North. No amount of _pretty please_ will change my mind."

"Very well, then I demand: stop now."

"And why would I want to comply?" Pitch asked in a bored voice. "I thought you were a firm advocate of fun and joy - and I haven't had this much fun in ages."

"For the _children_."

"Oh, of course," Pitch groaned. "For _them_. I almost forgot how important each brat is to you."

"Yes! Individual, special, with dreams and hopes you cannot know!" North spread his arms wide. "I hear them - and I hear their cries."

Pitch rolled his eyes.

"Childhood is... security. Is happiness. Is peace." North flicked the blade of one of his swords toward Pitch. "What do you think happens when you scare them during night?"

He smiled lazily. "I become more powerful."

North's eyes narrowed. "The world becomes a little darker. Each time you invade a child's dream, their light flickers out."

"I don't _care_ what happens to them!" Pitch snarled. Hidden in the shadows of the forest, Elsa started and drew closer to the tree trunk. She had heard that tone in his voice before.

St. North only nodded, but there was a hardening to his face - a resolve, and a little bit of sadness, too. "That is what I thought you say," he said. Then he swung his swords up in the attack position and charged.

Faster than the eye could catch, darkness fused together around Pitch and he met North in the sharp clang of metal. Elsa stared, wide-eyed, as North's testing lunges grew into real attacks and Pitch was forced to use both hands to defend against the growing ferocity of his opponent. They were amazing. It was clear that North was extraordinarily skilled with dual swords, but Pitch - Pitch was something else entirely. Elsa had never seen him fight with all of his being before, but it was a sight to behold. His weapon was a blur of blue-black in his hands, an elusive and deadly shadow, always deflecting while managing to attempt a few strikes when North seemed at his weakest. He wielded the weapon like an extension of himself, like he had always instructed Elsa, but it was clear that he was a master at the skill. _But then, he has had many lifetimes to perfect it_, Elsa reminded herself - something Pitch would often, though grudgingly, repeat to her after a disappointing practice of ice manifestation -

Suddenly Pitch knocked St. North back a few steps, the impact of the motion throwing his arms back behind his head in a near standstill, and Elsa finally caught sight of the weapon in Pitch's hands. It was a long wicked-looking scythe, the enormous black blade twisted and jagged. Elsa sucked in her breath. _No_, she thought.

Then the moment was gone; Pitch launched himself at North and the blade became a streak of color once again. Elsa ducked back behind the tree and pressed her back against the trunk. She held out her hand, willing the ice crystals to freeze together, to form into the weapon Pitch had taught her -

- a scythe.

Elsa let it hang in the air above her hand for a few moments before the full realization of it made her recoil. The scythe dissolved into flakes of snow, where they dropped in a mound at her feet. Elsa hid her hands behind her back, her breath coming in panicked gasps. "No," she breathed, "no, no - "

But she had seen it with her own eyes. Pitch was fighting a Guardian of childhood with the very same weapon he had been teaching her to use.

It frightened her.

"Giving up already, North?" Pitch's taunting voice demanded. "We've barely even begun to fight! You're showing your age, old man."

Despite herself, Elsa slowly twisted around to look. St. North was struggling to his feet, one sword stabbed into the ice to help pull himself up. "Says pot calling kettle," North grumbled, swaying a little as he rose to his full height. "I will still beat you."

Pitch burst into a full-throated laugh. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Leave the lies to me, North. I'd hate to be bored to death by both your overconfidence and your attempts to fend me off. You may as well give up now, while you still have the strength to walk."

North's eyes narrowed. "No."

"And why not?" The amusement was already beginning to leak from his voice. "It's only a few days until Christmas, isn't it? Wouldn't want the little children to have a disappointing holiday, now would we?"

"Because they need someone to defend them from you!" North burst out, jerking his sword out of the ice. "I defend the children because they need joyful days - like Christmas. They need memories to get them through life - happy memories, of wonder. Light. Family. It is courage to move forward, for future. Don't you see the importance?"

"No!" Pitch snapped. "It's all pointless! Meaningless! _Family_ is a waste of time."

"Family is love," North said, his voice softening slightly.

And suddenly Elsa remembered her own childhood. The memories were sharp and clear, as if she had only left her bedroom moments before. She remembered the desk where she sat when her tutors came; the bed where she had lain awake thinking about her growing powers, and all those times where she'd secretly prayed they might go away. She remembered her parents, when they used to visit her before their deaths, and...

She remembered Anna.

She recalled her sister's voice on the other side of the door, begging for Elsa to come and play, to ride bikes, to build a snowman - to just come out. Just _once_. Anna's voice had changed as she grew older, and the knocks grew fewer and far between. There were some months where the knocks never came at all, and then they eventually stopped altogether. Elsa knew it was for the best, then. She'd told herself that Anna was safer if she forgot all about her. Elsa could endure the loneliness if Anna was protected.

But she had never considered Anna's loneliness.

_No child should ever have the childhood that we endured_, Elsa thought, pressing her eyes closed as the approach of tears threatened her vision. _If I could go back and change it all, I would._

_ Family _is _love. I just didn't realize it until too late._

"You don't need love when you have power! Control!" Pitch ground out. "Fear will give that to me - the fear of weak, _pathetic_ children!"

"That is why I will guard them always!" North roared. "The four Guardians will stand against you!"

"Not if I can end one of you first," he sneered. He snapped his fingers. "Elsa, get out here!"

Elsa started. Her name. She had never heard Pitch say her name before.

"You are not as good showman as you think you are." Metal clanged together and North grunted with the effort. "Distraction does not work on me."

"It's _not_ a distraction. Elsa! Out here, now!"

Elsa's fingers curled into the deep ridges in the tree bark. Frost spread outward, coating the trunk in wild geometric crystals. She had to obey - Pitch had trained her for this, she knew what to do - he was calling for her to come -

But she didn't want to.

_I can't_, she thought, watching as North advanced on the Nightmare King. _He's a Guardian - a Guardian of children. Of their innocence and life. Of their future. If I step in now... if I help Pitch..._

"Elsa!" North showed no signs of fatigue now, and Pitch was having trouble keeping him at arm's length. "I demand you obey me!"

Elsa's heart pounded in her chest. _I have to go_, she thought._ I have to help Pitch. He'll be so furious - _

_ But the children. If I help him defeat St. North, the children..._ The storm was brewing under her skin, begging to be released. _The children..._

"Elsa! Dammit, get out here and kill him!" Pitch shouted.

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight back her raging power -

"_Elsa_?" Anna's young voice in Elsa's consciousness was soft - the only gentle thing in the vortex of her mind and the battle below. "_Do you want to build a snowman? I never see you anymore. Come out the door, it's like you've gone away_."

"_Elsa_!" There was a clatter - Pitch's scythe as it flew out of his hands and skidded across the ice.

"_Do you want to build a snowman_?"

"Yes!" Elsa shrieked, throwing out her arm. She felt the rush of frigid air, the bottled tension inside her fading as the electric current of winter energy burned out of her system - and the silence.

The dreadful silence.

Elsa slowly opened her eyes. A towering white column stood in the middle of the lake, the spiraling peaks of ice glinting faintly. Inside it, she could see a slight discoloration - crimson, and the shine of upraised swords: St. North.

A few feet away, Pitch looked up at the column with awe in his eyes. "Not what I had in mind for your big debut, but it will do," he said. He picked himself off the ground where he had thrown himself to safety, and dusted off the lingering snowflakes. "That raw power - North won't be forgetting you anytime soon. If he doesn't freeze to death first." He grinned malevolently.

Elsa slowly stepped out from behind the tree. It was just pure chance she had hit St. North - she hadn't meant to hit him at all. She shot Pitch a tentative glance, wondering if he knew, but he was busy inspecting the razor-thin points of her ice. "I'm sorry," she said, but why, exactly, she couldn't say.

Pitch ducked around a particularly long spike and leaned in close to where North's face was vaguely visible. "You're a disappointment," he murmured, pressing his fingertips against the ice. "I knew that from the start. But you can improve by finishing what you started."

She picked her way toward him. "St. North - "

"I'm not talking to North, I'm talking to you!" Pitch whipped around to glare at her. "Finish what you started: kill him."

Elsa froze. She glanced from the ice column to Pitch in horror. He couldn't be serious - but he _was_; she'd seen that look on his face before, and she knew he wasn't joking. "N-No."

Pitch only shook his head, his lips curving up in a little smile. "Not a request," he purred.

Elsa was beginning to panic again. "I - I can't," she gasped. She shot a look at St. North. Through the ice, she could see his wide eyes, his face a picture of astonishment. "I can't, I - I can't kill him."

Pitch's eyes sharpened, but his expression didn't change. "Do it."

"No. You - you promised, you said I wouldn't - "

"I did..." Pitch thought about it a moment, then shrugged. "I've changed my mind. Your delusion is over."

"Delusion?" Elsa whispered. "No. No, I can't - I won't kill a Guardian!"

Pitch's lips curled back from his teeth. "You won't?" he demanded. "How_ selective_ you are, highness - you won't kill _Santa Claus_, but you have no qualms about killing _your own sister_?"

Elsa staggered, as if the words themselves were a physical blow. "I'm not - " she stuttered, "I didn't mean - "

"What you need to realize is that those white hands of yours are already dirty." He stepped toward her, never once letting his eyes stray from hers. "Stained, with the blood of the snowbound people of Arendelle, and of dear, sweet Anna."

Her breath was fluttering in her chest, too quick to hold. Her head was pounding, her fingers tingling with the pressure of her power, fighting again to be freed. Elsa dug her hands into her hair. "No," she cried softly. "No, no - Anna - "

"You murdered her!" Pitch shouted, pressing his face close to hers. "You will always be a force of destruction - a killer! Your sister learned too late not to trust you . You only ever caused her misery and pain. And in those last seconds before her body crystallized, her compassion turned to hate."

Elsa sank to her knees, shaking her head over and over again. "No," she whispered, "no - " But Pitch was right. Elsa knew he was right. What else would Anna have been thinking? Anna didn't love her - the bond between them had been broken years ago by a simple locked door - but that sympathy, that _duty_ that must have driven Anna to sacrifice herself -

Nothing but fear.

Fear, disgust, and hatred. That was all Elsa deserved.

"It's a pity," Pitch said softly. "No one will ever love you again."

The words flew out, shocking Elsa. "_He_ might."

"He?" Pitch mocked. "He who? Don't you think a rescuer might have come for you by now?"

Elsa stared at him wordlessly. She had no idea where the words had come from, but she clung to them like a lifeline_. Jack. Jack Frost. We felt something - together, we felt something. He said... he said -_ but she couldn't remember his words. Something about fun and laughter - but no, he had called her _sad_, hadn't he? Elsa took a shaking breath. Why couldn't she _remember_?

"Ah, I see," Pitch murmured. He bent down to look into her eyes. "You're holding out hope. Somehow, you met someone and you thought he could see through your frozen heart and the murder in your past to have empathy for you." He clicked his tongue and reached out to stroke her chin. "How _desperate_ you must be, to imagine such a thing. It makes me almost feel sorry for you."

_Desperate... am I_? Elsa wondered. The ice was crackling under her skin, making it hard to think. _No. No, Jack Frost is real -_ Elsa tried to remember his face. There had to be something - she had to remember a detail, surely... a smile? No, that was Pitch's smile. His teeth were shinning at her in the darkness.

"And now you're trying to remember." He chuckled. His fingers moved to trace the line of her throat. "You can't find what isn't there, highness. You know that."

He was so smooth, so smooth. Elsa shut her eyes. She could sink into that voice and never come up again.

He could swallow her whole.

She would never see the light again.

Elsa jerked back, her eyes flying open. Pitch's hand was left suspended in the air, his eyes hooded and dark. "No," he said. "I do pity you. You looked for a way out - you even tried to invent one." He dropped his arm, his voice hardening. "But there is only _this_. There is only _now._ _Me_. You were born for devastation, and it is time to face the truth!"

Of course. She should have known. It was a dream - a fantasy. A _delusion_. There was no Jack Frost, and there never would be. No person, knowing what she was, could linger with her so happily, or talk to her with such acceptance.

Something inside her - her heart, maybe - twisted in her chest and she could hear the storm inside her wailing - but it was for the best. Elsa realized that she had begun to have hope for something like forgiveness in her life - or maybe just kindness. _I'm a fool_, she thought._ I've only been deceiving myself all along._

"The truth," Elsa said slowly. The truth was that her parents had been right, all those years ago: _conceal, don't feel_.

She had been safest when she felt nothing at all.

"Yes," Pitch said. He stood in one fluid movement. "Now get _up_ and kill Nicholas St. North!" he commanded.

The dying cries of her hopes were slowly fading, the rage of ice and snow inside her beginning to melt. Don't feel - yes, she knew how to do that very well. "Don't let them in," she quoted softly, "don't let them see. Be the good girl you always have to be."

Pitch's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

"I can't be different from what I am. I never should have tried." Elsa slowly stood. She met Pitch's eyes placidly. "I'm not you, Pitch."

"No, you're _nothing_!" he spat. "I own you, Elsa, and when I order you to do something, _you will do it_."

Again. He used her name again. She hated the sound of it on his tongue - like it was a curse. She hated the memories it brought back, of happier days. _Days when I didn't know any better._

"No," Elsa said. "I'm leaving, Pitch. I'm going far enough away that I won't be a danger to anyone."

His eyes widened as she turned away. "You're joking. You won't just leave."

Her silence was eloquent enough.

He scoffed at her back. "Really? So then this is how you end it - after all that I've done, after everything I've taught you - you've gone squeamish, so now you're running again, like the coward you are - "

"Say what you will," Elsa said, raising her chin. She didn't know it, but in that moment she looked every inch the queen she used to be. "It's over."

Pitch hurled abuses after her, everything from taunts, jeers, and his biting sarcasm. Elsa kept walking, her ears deaf to his shouts. She should not have listened to him in the first place. She should not have followed him, should not have let herself be coerced into helping him -

But it was all too late now. The best she could do was hide herself in a place where she would never have the chance to hurt anyone again. Not even herself.

And that's exactly what she did.

* * *

Pitch did not go after her.

He thought about it, of course - briefly, but without any serious thought. He had not forgotten that he had no power over Elsa - he never had, even when she was a child. He knew from their practice sessions that his shadow scythe, as deadly as it was, could not endure a battle with her for any length of time. Elsa was too studious a pupil, and along with her extraordinary strength and stamina, her ice blades utterly resisted the shadowflesh he wielded.

So even though Pitch was dying to take his weapon to the prone St. North, locked in Elsa's ice, he knew it was no use.

He had to retreat.

So Pitch went back to his daylight shelter - currently the long-forgotten catacombs of some unnamed ancients - and raged. Elsa would come back, there was no question about that. Where else would she go, after all? She owed him everything. By herself she was nothing. _Nothing_. Perhaps it would take her a while to come to her senses, but she would come back. And when she did - oh, Pitch would make her pay. She would never leave him again.

Yet time passed. The pesky Guardians were all bothered about what happened to St. North, so they took it upon themselves to teach Pitch a lesson. They had a knack for catching him at his worst moments, and Pitch cursed Elsa for her tardiness. But he never lost his faith that she would return.

After a particularly nasty battle, Pitch decided to disappear for a while. He needed a new plan of attack, and that required the Guardians to think they had won. It worked; after a while, they began to believe that they'd gotten rid of him for good. It made Pitch laugh to think how _stupid_ the Man in the Moon and his Guardians could be.

His idea was clever: nightmares projected directly into children's heads when they were sleeping - a technique inspired by the Sandman's golden sand. It took Pitch a while to perfect it, and as he practiced he sometimes found himself thinking, _when Elsa returns, I'll have to teach her how the nightmare sand works. I wonder if it handles like her ice does. If she has forgotten the techniques I taught her for fighting, then I won't have time to reteach her - _and then he caught himself, annoyed that he had let himself think of her for so long. Elsa didn't deserve to be thought of, especially if she continued to be so stubborn.

Why did he even think of her so often, anyway?

So then Pitch decided to go ahead with his plans without her - he didn't need her, not with his new sand trick - and the Guardians, predictably, tried to stop him. And Pitch would have succeeded if it wasn't for the addition of a new Guardian: Jack Frost. He had amazing powers - almost as good as Elsa's - but in the end he was too committed to the side of _goodness_ and _righteousness_. They beat Pitch and forced him back down below ground - in the abandoned sewers, now - to think and rage again.

If Elsa had been there, Pitch would have won. It was as simple as that. Her powers could have negated Jack's, which would have left Pitch the freedom to get rid of the other four in whatever way he wanted. His plans could have worked. They _would_ have worked, if Elsa had been there. He cursed at her and fumed at her from deep underground. It was her fault. It was her fault for everything, and that was why she didn't show her face: she was ashamed, as she should be.

Well. He wouldn't take her back even if she came. He hadn't needed her from the beginning, and he didn't need her now. She was useless - no, worse than useless, and he didn't need an ally like that dragging him down.

Elsa was nothing to him. Absolutely nothing.

But when his angry screams trailed away and the air was still once again, Pitch felt something. Inside _him_. In the silence, left alone with his thoughts under the cold, dim light, Pitch experienced something he hadn't felt in a long while.

Regret.

* * *

**A/N: There will be more.  
**


	3. Kingdoms of Isolation

**A/N: I'm actually kind of stunned with the reaction this story has received. It's not a normal Frozen/ROTG story, and I sort of thought that only I would like it. So the reason this chapter is here - just know that it's because of you guys. **

**To everyone who has followed, favorite'd, and reviewed: thank you, thank you, thank you. And to all you guests: I love every one of your anonymous faces.**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

Jack Frost loved Elsa from the first moment he saw her.

He didn't know it at the time, though.

That morning when he met her - well, it would be crazy to say it changed his life, but it kind of did: she was the first person he talked to, and the _only_ person who saw him for a long, long while.

Except that she wasn't a person; she was a spirit, or a legend, or immortal, or whatever. But the point was she was like _him_.

And that meant he could see her again.

Jack lingered in the city where they'd met - that was before he'd figured out the names for the continents and cities, so he'd worried he wouldn't be able to find his way back - and hoped that he would catch a glimpse of her. He couldn't get her out of his head; everything from her soft voice, the shyness of her smile, the way her blue eyes sparkled in the rising sun seemed to call to him. She _was_ beautiful - _stupid, stupid, _he berated himself when he remembered how the words had just blurted out. _She doesn't want to hear that from you _- but even more amazing was what happened when they touched. Jack's name wasn't just a name, it was a description of his abilities. He caused frost wherever he went, on whatever he touched. He was the breath of winter, but not on her. His hands, so cold and devoid of heat, stirred with feeling. She was also cold, icy cold - Jack liked to think she was the same temperature that he was - but together they generated a kind of warmth, like sensation returning to frostbitten fingers.

Like he was returning to life.

He remembered the recognition on her face, and knew she felt the same.

They had to be together. They had to - it just made sense.

With each sunrise, Jack thought about her. _Elsa._ It was a pretty name - a little foreign-sounding, but lovely. She had corrected him, told him she was the Snow Queen, but Jack didn't accept that. She wasn't a queen - yeah, maybe she was called that, but she wasn't really. She seemed too, well, _human_ to be a sovereign. No, to Jack she was Elsa. Just Elsa. Sad and beautiful.

He told himself he would make her laugh one day.

But Elsa never came. Jack waited for her as the seasons quickly changed, as winter bled into spring, then summer. He waited an entire year and she never came. And Jack began to wonder if she ever would.

She was with Pitch Black. He remembered that, and hated that she was with _him_, the Bogeyman. Jack had thought that she wasn't happy - he got the impression that she enjoyed her moments of freedom, and savored her stolen time away from Pitch's presence. But as time raced on and Elsa did not appear, Jack began to wonder if he'd got it all wrong. Maybe she was just naturally downcast, maybe she had been on the bridge to meet Pitch, maybe she was perfectly happy serving the Bogeyman - any one of those reasons could be the truth. And Jack realized then that he could be entirely wrong about her; he knew her in his mind, almost as well as he knew himself -

Except he didn't. He _didn't_ really know her.

They'd only talked for about five minutes, total. That was it. Just because of the similarities and connection they shared, he'd made assumptions. He'd even done it when they met. And the fact was, Jack _didn't_ know her. Not really.

Elsa wasn't coming back.

So Jack left.

He began to travel again. Along the way he met Santa Claus - several times, actually, and _man_ could the big guy be such a tightwad when he wanted to be - and the Easter Bunny - who didn't deserve to be mentioned except in passing - and the Tooth Fairy and Sandman, though at a distance. He met more beings like himself: people cursed with the same forever-life, stuck on the earth with their own powers or abilities. All of them knew what they were meant to do, or they had at least figured it out.

And Jack - well, he still had no idea.

So Jack did what he knew best: he improvised. He messed with Bunny whenever possible, caused trouble, and amused himself through tricks and jokes. He drifted from place to place, always looking for something new to do.

He kept his eyes and ears open for Pitch, though. He couldn't help it; part of him wanted to see, for himself, that Elsa was really there with the Bogeyman, and that she was actually happy.

Or maybe he just wanted to see her again.

In any case, he never saw Pitch. He heard later that the Guardians had a big fight with him, and he was suspected to be dead. The wind brought him a rumor, though, that Pitch might have escaped, but was too weak to launch a counter-attack.

Jack believed that was the case, but a part of it made him sad; if Pitch had survived, then it must be because Elsa had helped him. And that meant she was still with him.

He had waited all those months for her in vain.

But Jack was at heart a cheerful boy, and he wouldn't let himself be sad for long. His years of aimless wanderings had made him familiar with every continent and nearly every city and town. Perhaps the Man in the Moon had simply put him on earth to have fun - _that_ was something he knew he knew how to do. With the world as his playground, he went anywhere whimsy took him: to Niagara, to freeze the falls; to London, to ice the Thames; to the Alps to play pranks on the skiers (there were always so many of them, all over the place, and it was too hard to resist); to Novosibirsk to coat the streets in black ice; to Kuwait to stir up random blizzards; to the Warren to mess with Bunny again; to Rio to freeze the rain - really, there was an endless list of things to do.

Yet in his heart, Jack wasn't happy. No one could see him and hear him, so none of his jokes could be properly appreciated. There were the Guardians, of course, and the Groundhog and the Leprechaun, but they were all so boring. They could see him, but sometimes he wished they couldn't because they talked to him like a child - like he was too stupid or lazy to do anything else but play tricks on the humans.

Elsa - yeah, he still thought about her - she never treated him like he was immature, or like he was too young for a _proper conversation_ (the Leprechaun's words, which was _hilarious_ because the Leprechaun himself looked like a little boy with a beard). No, she had talked to him like an adult - like an equal.

He remembered telling her that he hadn't found his purpose yet. Funny how after all the time since, he _still_ didn't know.

He wondered if she had decided her purpose was with Pitch.

Sometimes - not often, but every once in a while - he let himself imagine what would have happened if Elsa had stayed. What if, instead of going back to Pitch, she had looked at him and said, "okay, Jack Frost. I'll go with you"?

Then he would have taken her hand - _not in a dumb, lovesick way,_ he reminded himself, _but in a normal way, like they were friends - because they _were _friends _- and said, "come with me."

He didn't really have the exact details figured out after that, but he knew they would go on adventures. They could ice skate across the Atlantic Ocean and dance across the Auroras. She would help him ice sidewalks and play against him in snowball fights. And hey, she could even help him mess with Bunny, or even figure out a way into Santa's workshop - if anyone knew their way with a lockpick, he bet it would be Elsa.

Elsa. Her name still had the power to make him smile. The memory of her warmth was strong, and sometimes it hurt to think of what might have been.

He hoped she was happy.

But he couldn't forget her. She was one of the earliest things he remembered after waking up for the first time, and that made her a part of him, in a way. That made her special.

And even though his memories of her were fading - even though he sometimes forgot the sound of her voice, or the color of her eyes - he wouldn't let himself forget _her_. Even if his attempts to remember - the _what if_ scenario - became harder and harder to keep up, he promised himself that he would never stop trying. As long as she was in his heart or his brain somewhere, then her memory wouldn't die.

As long as she was his, then she didn't belong to Pitch.

Then that day came - the day where he was kidnapped by Santa Claus and told he was a Guardian.

He didn't believe it.

Later on he did, of course - it all made sense later, like things always do. And in fact, it was a good thing that he became a Guardian, because he was needed to help save the world from Pitch Black.

The Bogeyman.

Elsa wasn't with him. That was the first thing that Jack noticed when they met. He wondered if Pitch was hiding her somewhere, or if he was planning on springing her on them, like she was a secret weapon. Jack waited and waited, but Pitch did nothing. Elsa never appeared. And then, when Pitch proposed that they be allies -

Well. Jack knew something was wrong.

He meant to ask Pitch about her. He wanted to ask, even when the Bogeyman insisted on leading him in circles - literally and verbally - down underground, acting as the distraction for the destruction above. Jack _meant_ to ask about Elsa, but then one thing led to another, and suddenly the fate of all things good and happy was stake and she kind of slipped his mind for a while.

But when Pitch was finally put away and his monstrous nightmares with him, Jack decided he couldn't wait any longer.

He had to know.

He told the other Guardians he missed going where the wind led him (and that he had a sneaking suspicion that if he stuck with them for much longer, he'd start resembling Bunny. They didn't appreciate it - especially Bunny - but hey, it was true), and that got him off the hook for a while. He gave Baby Tooth back to Toothiana - he wouldn't start another war if he could help it - and let the wind guide him to an entry into Pitch Black's underground domain.

It didn't take the Bogeyman long to realize he had a visitor. His voice whispered up to Jack from the shadows, sounding as if it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Jack Frost. To what do I owe the _honor_ of your presence?"

Jack hunched his shoulders, bringing the crooked staff up in an attack position. "No games, Pitch," he called. "I just have a couple of questions."

"Perhaps you're too new at this Guardian business, but let me give you a piece of advice." Suddenly his voice changed, swooping down into a snarl. "You maybe have beaten me in the upper world, but this realm down here is _mine_. No one, not even the Man in the Moon can protect you from my wrath here!"

Pitch's shadow materialized behind him on the wall. Jack whirled around, but Pitch himself was nowhere in sight. "I said I just have questions," he said firmly. "I don't want to fight you."

His voice twisted, serpentine, around him. "I'm not sure I believe you."

"North and the others - they don't know I'm here." Jack's eyes flickered left and right, searching for the Bogeyman. Even in defeat Pitch was dangerous, and Jack wanted to be prepared in case he tried anything. "I just want to know something, then I'll leave you alone."

"Really?" He sounded more solid, somehow - less like vapor, and more like a living being. Jack turned to see Pitch standing on the fallen wreckage of the globe, his hands hidden behind his back.

"Really," Jack assured him.

"Hm." His golden eyes looked Jack over briefly before he turned away. "No, I'm not in the mood."

Jack a few quick steps toward him. "It's about Elsa."

Pitch stopped. For a few seconds he stood there, utterly still, as if the words had stolen the life right out of him. Then, very slowly, his head turned. "The Snow Queen?"

"Elsa," Jack repeated stubbornly. "Where is she?"

"Why would I care about something like that? No, but the better question is..." His body shifted toward Jack, his yellow eyes glowing malevolently "...why would _you_ care about it?"

"She traveled with you. You knew her, so you must know where she is."

"Oh, well then, I suppose I must." Pitch turned away. He leapt down off the globe and vanished into the darkness.

Jack flung out his arm, the staff swinging in a broad arc. "Tell me!" he shouted.

"Why are you so interested in her, anyway?" Pitch asked. He suddenly loomed forward on Jack's left, and the boy scrambled back. "No one even knew she existed except me. Not even St. North seemed to realize, and she's been around longer than the tradition of Christmas. So how could you know about her?"

"Because she told me!" Jack exclaimed, glaring.

"She told - " Abruptly Pitch drew back, his eyes widening. His jaw went slack and for a long moment he said nothing at all.

"Something got your tongue, Pitch?" he taunted, which was probably the wrong thing to do; Pitch's mouth snapped shut and his eyes darted to Jack's face.

"You met her." It wasn't a question - merely a statement. But underneath the emotionless tone, Jack could sense a black fury.

"Yeah. I did." He met Pitch's gaze unwaveringly.

"And what did you _say_ to her?" Pitch hissed.

"Plenty of things," Jack fired back. "Nothing I want to tell you." He knew he sounded petulant, but he didn't want to repeat them; the things he said to Elsa belonged to _her_, and her alone.

Besides, he certainly didn't want to admit that he had told Elsa to leave pitch.

The Bogeyman's eyes burned into his, as if eye contact alone could force Jack to confess. Then Pitch blinked. His lips curved up at the corner and a chuckle sounded deep in his throat. The smile turned into a grin and he laughed, loud and long. Jack stared at him, wondering what was suddenly so funny. He went over the conversation in his head, but couldn't see anything that might have set Pitch off -

"Ah," Pitch said. He looked down at Jack, the wide smile still on his face. "Yes, I see now."

Jack frowned. "How could you - "

"Let me guess," Pitch interrupted. He flicked his wrist and waved a hand airily as he spoke. "You met the Snow Queen once a long time ago, talked of useless and trivial things that you've now interpreted into something meaningful, and you've been thinking about her ever since."

Jack blinked. "Uh... well..." He struggled to come up with an intelligent response but came up short. "...yeah."

Pitch nodded and strode past him. "Yes, she does tend to have that affect. I suppose I'm not really surprised she would appeal to _you_ - like attracts like, and all that." He paused. "And apparently your teenage hormones have begun to kick in."

"My - what?" Jack gaped at Pitch. "Ye - no. _No_. I don't even wanna talk about that."

Pitch only smirked.

"What happened to her? Elsa." Jack softly set his staff against the ground. He looked up in time to see the smallest flare of reaction on Pitch's face at the mention of her name - there, then gone. "Where is she?"

Pitch started walking again. "Well, obviously she isn't here."

"Yes, I can see that - "

"And she hasn't been here in a very long while."

Jack ran ahead to plant himself in front of Pitch, effectively blocking his way. "So then where did she go?"

He rolled his head to the side and huffed out an irritated sigh. "You aren't going to let this go. Are you?"

"No." Jack's hand tightened around his staff. "I'm not."

Pitch fixed him with an annoyed glare. "Fine. We had a falling out."

"Who broke it off?"

His lip curled. "The Snow Queen did."

"Over what?"

"A little dispute over killing someone."

Jack nodded. "She wouldn't do it. You tried to force her, but that was the last straw." A smile broke over his face. Yes, that was Elsa, alright. He knew she wouldn't do something so terrible as murder a person.

"Not _quite_ correct," Pitch said, stepping around Jack, "but then, I really don't care enough about it to correct you."

"Not so fast." Jack raised his staff and Pitch slowed. "Why didn't you go after her? You were using her like you wanted to use me, so that means she was important to you."

"If that's what you think."

"No, I _know_ I'm right. You could have gone after her, but you didn't. Why? Why didn't you bring her back?"

"I _told_ you, I - "

"Why did you let her go?"

Pitch spun around, his voice booming through the cavernous room. "Because I have no power over her!"

Jack's eyes widened. "You - you what?"

"I have no _power_," he enunciated nastily. "I never have."

"Then how - "

"I'm persuasive. You of all people should know that." His gaze slid away from Jack dismissively. "The Snow Queen has few weaknesses, but they were vital and simple to exploit."

"Her fears," Jack said quietly.

"Of course." Pitch shrugged. "In the end, she couldn't take it - she broke so easily. A disappointment. I knew she would be from the start. I should have gotten rid of her, but she was too much fun to have around."

"Fun?" Jack repeated. He looked up at Pitch. The Bogeyman looked back at him, mock innocence written all over his face, and Jack knew he had walked into a trap.

"Yes," he said smoothly, steepling his fingers together. "She was, after all, with me longer than you've been around, so we had our... moments."

Jack's stomach twisted uneasily. He knew Pitch was leading him on, but he couldn't help himself. "What do you mean?"

"Memories, Jack. You forgot all about yours, but for the Snow Queen, hers were crystal clear. They plagued her, _crippled_ her. She needed me to break her from their hold." His lips stretched in a smile, thin and skeletal. "Want to know what I did?"

Jack gritted his teeth. If Pitch was hinting at - "_No_."

Pitch tapped his fingers against his mouth. "_Moments_."

"No. No, you're lying! Elsa - Elsa could never love you!" He brandished his staff angrily.

Pitch scoffed, but there was an uncertainty there, an uncomfortable look in his eyes as he looked away. "I couldn't say. Who knew what the Snow Queen was really feeling inside her heart of ice?"

"I could," Jack said boldly.

"_You_? You met her once, and you understood her at the time. What do you think has happened to her since?"

"Nothing I can't change."

"Hm. I'd like to see you try." He arched his eyebrows. "Especially after she spent so long with me, the Nightmare King. _Me_, the ultimate corruptor. Even I didn't fail to leave my mark on her. She's different than you remember."

Jack shook his head. "If that's true, then it doesn't explain why you didn't at least try to get her back - "

"I did; I came back from visiting her a few days ago."

He stared. For once, Pitch's face didn't have the sneaky look that hinted he was lying about something.

Pitch misread Jack's silence and groaned in exasperation. "She's fine, just fine. The adage still holds true: ignorance is bliss."

"_Where is she_?" The words rushed out of Jack, hope bubbling in his voice. He took a few steps forward, knowing he probably looked and sounded terribly desperate - but he couldn't help it. _This_ was what he wanted to know. _This_ was what he had been yearning to hear from the moment Elsa left him.

He had to know. He _had_ to.

Jack expected Pitch to refuse - the Bogeyman hadn't given any information voluntarily, not from the start, so why would this have been any different? It didn't look as though Pitch was going to answer, either; he wore a vaguely disinterested expression as his eyes slowly moved over Jack's face - deciding whether or not to answer. _And he's better tell me_, Jack thought impatiently, _or I might have to beat it out of him_.

"No," Pitch murmured eventually. "I suppose it won't matter much, anyway - she won't want to see you."

"The hell she will," Jack snapped, starting forward. "You have no right to decide that for her - "

Pitch's hand shot out, pushing Jack back a few steps. "Just stating a fact."

Jack snarled, shoving Pitch's hand away. "I said no games. You'll tell me, or else - "

"I was going to, but I didn't think you'd have to ask." Pitch straightened his shoulders and stared down at Jack. "Ask yourself: where does anyone go when they want to be alone? Where did _you_ go?"

Jack's eyes widened. "Antarctica," he gasped. "Is that... is that where she is?"

"You weren't too far away, when you decided to have your little tantrum."

"When I found my memories," Jack corrected, but already he was calculating how long it would take to get there. With a strong eastern wind, he could catch the currents above the Pacific and ride them down to the southern trades and around the outer edge of Africa and be down in Antarctica by this time tomorrow...

And be with Elsa.

There was nothing else to decide. Jack couldn't stop the feeling of excitement that was rushing up inside him, making his heart race. He nodded to Pitch as he skipped back a few steps, eager to be on his way. _Elsa. Elsa, I'm coming_.

The wind stirred his hair, calling him. "Thanks!" he shouted to Pitch and then he was up, out - and the land was falling away below him, carrying him onwards into the bright afternoon sky, on and on towards _her_.

He would be there soon.

* * *

Pitch, finally alone in the darkness, didn't move for a long while.

He should have lied to Jack. It would have been more amusing if he had - at least for a while.

But then again, it didn't really matter, did it?

Now that he thought about it, Pitch wasn't surprised that Jack had met Elsa. They were similar, of course, even beyond their snow-powers. He suspected that it was her sorrow and her great beauty that captured the boy's heart. Pitch couldn't grudge him that. After all, it was those same things that kept drawing Pitch to her when she grew older, outside of his usual realm of surveillance.

He studied the empty cages hanging in the darkness and listened to the silence that now filled his ears. He tried to imagine Elsa living there, in the partially-collapsed sewers - there with _him_, as things used to be. But already Pitch knew how useless that would be.

She would say no. She wouldn't come now, not even if he begged.

"Ah," Pitch said aloud, softly. He knew then that he had lost the battle for Elsa a long time ago - longer ago than he had believed. Perhaps he had never stood a chance to begin with.

He had been defeated the moment she saw Jack Frost.

* * *

Jack knew he had found her when he saw the sparkle of silver amid the glaring white of the raging snowstorm. It was Elsa's work, he knew: a slim tower, like a needle of glass, nestled between two jagged peaks in the middle of a desolate and undiscovered mountain range. It was the easiest thing in the world to calm the flying snow and pass down into the eye of the storm to the single pointed door at the base of the tower. He flew up the long spiral staircase, all the way to the top where there was a single room -

And Elsa.

She was standing at a window, peering out. She looked exactly the way Jack remembered her - slim and beautiful, the spirals of snowflakes that composed her train winking at him in the muted light. Jack glanced down at himself as his feet silently touched the smooth ice floor. He looked - well, he looked like a snow dusted teenager, especially in his blue hoodie. Elsa looked like a queen.

Would she even speak to him?

_Of course she will_, Jack assured himself, inhaling slowly. _She talked to me even when I was wearing the ragged wool clothes I woke in. She doesn't care about something like that._

But for some reason his heart was pounding, as if it was trying to jump out of his chest. Was his hair okay? He quickly brushed at it with one hand, but he was pretty sure he only made it worse. Then he realized what was wrong and almost laughed out loud. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden?

_Because it's her_, he thought. _After all this time, I'm finally going to -_

"Okay, shut up," he whispered to himself. "That's not helping."

He took a few steps toward her. What would he say to introduce himself? Nothing sounded right - everything sounded stupid in his head. Why was he being such an idiot about this?

"Elsa," he said softly. He waited for her to turn and look -

She didn't. He must have been too quiet.

Jack took a couple more steps forward and tapped the bottom of his staff against the ground. "Elsa," he called.

She still didn't move. As Jack moved closer, she lifted one hand and made a twirling motion. Suddenly the snow began to blow, moving faster and faster until it blotted out the mountainous landscape in a haze of white. She watched the storm for a moment, her head tilted a little, and Jack saw more clearly the faint color that naturally graced the curve of her cheek.

"It's a good barrier," Jack commented, watching her, "but it can't keep out _everyone_."

Then Elsa turned and Jack grinned expectantly -

And she began to walk away.

"Whoa, hang on!" He hurried after her. "I know it's been a while, but you don't have to ignore me." He lunged, reaching for her shoulder -

And she passed right through him.

"No," Jack breathed. It couldn't be. No, it was impossible. "Elsa!" he cried. "Elsa, I'm right here! _Elsa_!"

But she didn't turn. _She can't see me_, Jack thought, his eyes going wide. Never in any of his what-if scenarios did he think this might happen. It just wasn't possible - they had met, talked. She had seen him before.

_She can't see me._

"She can't - she can't see me," he gasped. Deep inside him, something _hurt_. His free hand clenched the hoodie over his chest, and he squeezed his eyes together. _Not her_, he pleaded - wishing once, just _once_ that the Man in the Moon was listening. _Not her. Please, not Elsa..._

She couldn't see him. Jack knew why he was invisible to her now, and it broke his heart.

Elsa no longer believed he was real.

* * *

**A/N: There will be more.**


	4. Winter's Spell

**A/N: A longer chapter than usual, so enjoy!**

**I usually respond to everyone's signed reviews, but this week I didn't. I'm sorry - I do love all your reviews, very very much! - but I was a little busy planning and writing a new ROTG/Frozen story!**

**And here's the shameless plug for it: **

**Dear Elsa/Pitch shippers! In honor of Valentine's Day, I'm preparing a special little story for the occasion. It's really different from this fic, but I think you guys will like it all the same. It's called "The Black Hearts Ball," so look for it next week!**

**The next update for this story might be a little delayed because of Black Hearts Ball, but I'll do my best to keep the momentum unbroken.**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

There was only one reason why Elsa was like this, and Jack knew exactly who was to blame. As quickly as he came, Jack flew back to New England and directly into Pitch's lair.

"Where are you?" he shouted the moment he set foot on the crumbling grey concrete. "Where _are_ you, Pitch Black?"

The Bogeyman stepped out of the shadows on a broken landing several yards away, across the wide expanse of the derelict chamber. "That was fast," he said in that lazy way of his. "Not quite what you expected?"

Jack launched himself toward Pitch, ice crackling out of his staff. "What did you do?" Pitch leapt out of the way and Jack followed, flinging streaks of frost after him. "What the hell did you do to her? She wasn't like this before, so it was you. You did something - what was it?"

Pitch evaded Jack's furious thrust and deftly side-stepped into the wall, completely vanishing into the darkness. Jack slammed the crook of his cane against the arching rock, creating an instant latticework of silver frost. "Stop hiding!" he roared, turning to glare at the shadows. "What did you _do_ to Elsa?"

"Nothing much. Nothing at all, really."

Pitch's whispered voice came from the left. Jack whirled around, but saw only darkness. "That's a lie. You know she didn't believe in me anymore! You knew it!"

"I suspected."

It sounded as though Pitch was speaking directly behind him. Jack turned, his hand tightening around his staff. "Come _out_!"

"And risk your ire the moment I do? No."

He groaned, the cavern echoing with his pent-up fury. "Undo it," he demanded. "Undo this right now. Go to Elsa and tell her - "

"So you can find happiness with her? No." His voice, sneering and dismissive, began to drift away.

"You _will_," Jack said, "even if I have to freeze this entire place and drag you out myself. You _will_ fix this." He swung his staff, frosting the walls and ground around him with the sharp _snap_ of crackling ice.

Pitch was silent for a few seconds, and Jack knew he was being watched from the safety of the shadows' embrace. "Even if I could," the Bogeyman said slowly, "I wouldn't do it."

"The hell does that mean?"

"The Snow Queen believed someone would come to her - to rescue her, to _save_ her." There was a note of the usual sarcasm in Pitch's voice, but it seemed muted somehow. Jack frowned, realizing that Pitch wasn't mocking Elsa - not really. "Well. No one ever came."

"Did you tell her that no one ever would?" Jack asked dangerously. "Is _that_ how you got her to doubt me?"

"She drew that conclusion on her own. No, she wondered where you were - her mysterious savior. I had no idea what she meant; I only learned that it was _you_ two days ago."

"So what did you say?" Jack asked, steeling himself for the answer he knew was coming.

All of a sudden Pitch's voice was there, murmuring in his ear. "I told her _you weren't real_."

Jack gritted his teeth and shut his eyes.

"Of course, then she ran. Been gone ever since." Pitch's voice drew back and Jack felt his presence pull away.

"But you visited her." Jack resisted the urge to glare at Pitch and instead opened his eyes again to stare at the blackness of the empty tunnels before him. "You said you went to go see her."

"A few days ago," he replied softly.

"And?"

"And... you are not the only one she doesn't believe in, anymore."

Then Jack did turn. He stared at Pitch in astonishment as the Bogeyman opened his hands eloquently, as if he meant, _what else can I say?_

"She can't see you either," Jack realized.

Pitch shrugged, but there was a grave solemnity to the motion. "I cannot help you."

"Yeah," he said, the fury mounting in his voice. "And I hope you're happy. Look what you did! Not only did you corrupt her, but you've practically destroyed her dreams!"

Pitch turned away. "That's what I do."

"Well, you did it too well - and you did it to _her_. Elsa didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve any of this!"

He scoffed, but there was no mirth in it.

"You." Jack pointed an accusing finger at Pitch's back. "You act like you didn't care and you say you never did, but you do. Even you, with your black heart, can't help but feel _something_. So fix it. Not for me, but for her - "

But Pitch was already shaking his head. "No point," he said. "She's lost, Jack."

"She is _not_ - "

"You can't do anything for her now. Just leave her alone." Pitch walked into the shadows, his long coat hissing softly as it slithered over the ground. His voice carried eerily back to Jack, like a phantom on the wind. "That's the only kindness you can give to her now."

Jack's hand tightened on his staff. No. _No_. He had fought too long to find her, searched the world for a mere rumor of her, and endured the Bogeyman just to hear a word - no. No, there had to be something he could do.

Something. Anything.

And he was a _Guardian_, for crying out loud. That had to count for something.

He wasn't going to abandon her. Elsa was too great, too precious to just forget her. He just couldn't think how to wake her from the prison of her mind -

Then he remembered how once, long ago, he had promised himself that he would see her laugh one day. He still wanted to hear her voice, to watch her eyes smile, to feel the touch of her warm skin against his cheek...

_I will_, Jack Frost thought. _I'll be the one to bring her back_.

_I'll save her._

"I will," Jack whispered, and let the wind take him away.

* * *

He came in through the window this time, and touched down gently on the floor. He saw Elsa turn inquisitively, and for a moment he thought that she had actually seen him - and then he realized that it was just the wind that had caught her attention. Then her gaze fell on the window and a frown crossed her face. "What?" she asked softly, and moved to take a closer look. Jack leaned against the wall, watching her take in the sight: every snowflake of the storm was frozen, suspended in a sort of timeless stillness. She stared, her eyes widening in amazement, and Jack couldn't help but chuckle.

"What is this?" she murmured. "This is the second time..."

"But not the last, that's for sure," Jack commented. He spread his fingers apart, ice blossoming and twisting together above his palm until it created a small snowflake. He looked up at Elsa. Now let's hope this works as well on you as it did on Jamie," he said, and gently blew on the snowflake. It lifted into the air and spiraled toward her -

It dissolved the moment it touched her forehead. Jack smiled but his heart was beating fast again - way too fast. He gripped his staff for assurance.

Elsa wrinkled her nose and blinked a few times. She turned toward him and started violently. "Oh!" she gasped. Then her expression changed - just for a moment there was something like fear on her face, and then, abruptly, she smoothed it away. "Oh," she said again and took a deliberate step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't know I had... a visitor."

Jack swallowed. His anxiety had faded the moment he saw her fear and he knew, even before she spoke, that she didn't remember him. _That would have been too easy, I guess_, he thought as his eyes flickered to his hand on his staff. _Shouldn't have gotten my hopes up_.

Elsa was looking at him, her deep blue eyes searching his. It hurt to see her look at him so intensely and know she didn't remember him. Jack tried to smile, but he couldn't, somehow. He just couldn't make the muscles move. "Sorry," he told her. "I... I move pretty quietly."

"Yes, you do," she agreed.

Jack realized then that she was standing with her hands clasped behind her back - just like Pitch. That was _his_ favorite arrogant stance, and somehow Elsa had adopted it - ! Jack took a deep breath. He was trying so hard to keep the anguished emotions from his face that he almost missed Elsa's next words.

"Could I... do you mind if I ask how you got here?" She sounded almost nervous. "How did you get through the storm?"

"I stopped it." He motioned to the window.

"You... you can control ice, too?" she asked.

Her voice was a little breathless, and the corner of Jack's lips tipped upward to hear it. "Ice, snow, frost - you name it, I can do it," he said.

"Oh," she said. "_Oh_." Then she pulled her hands out from behind her back and sighed. "Then you're like me."

"Yeah," he said softly. "I'm like you."

"My name is Elsa." She waited a beat for his response, then prompted, "and yours?"

Jack swallowed again. _Jack_, he wanted to say, _Jack Frost_, but he couldn't. They'd had this conversation before, and he didn't think he could do it all again.

He really thought she'd remember. He'd been betting on the snowflake trick to work and, failing that, he'd hoped that he'd made a big enough impression on her that she would recognize his face. But she didn't - she didn't remember him at all.

Maybe she never would.

Maybe she didn't _want_ to recognize him.

That thought, more than anything else, had the ability to shatter him. There was a lump in his throat and a doubt in his heart, and he couldn't respond.

Elsa took a step closer. "You're pale as winter," she said, her eyes moving up the front of his frost-dusted hoodie and to his face.

"Winter," he echoed dully, reaching up to comb his hand through the side of his hair. It was close, granted, but it wasn't close enough.

A small smile touched her face. "I like it," Elsa said. "It fits you, somehow."

Jack looked at her in confusion for a moment, and then suddenly he understood. "Oh, uh, that's not - "

Elsa looked at him expectantly, but Jack couldn't finish. He wanted to correct her, but he couldn't. He just - he just couldn't bear the thought of it. He imagined her saying his name with the same sort of emptiness she was using now, without the warmth and familiarity as before -

"No," he said, "that's fine. I've just - I've gotta go." He turned away before she could see the horror in his eyes.

He flew away - far enough away so she wouldn't be able to follow, but close enough so he could still see her tower winking in the distance - until he reached a solitary peak. There he let his feelings of pain and disappointment and anger loose in a wild scream - at Elsa, for forgetting him; at Pitch, for destroying all that she had been, and at himself, for letting it all happen.

When his voice wore out and he finally felt hollow, just a shell of himself, then he sank to his knees. He shut his eyes against the tears that washed away his view of Elsa's storm and dropped his head into his hands.

* * *

He came back to her a few days later.

He couldn't _not_ come back; with Elsa's storm always in sight and the memories of her smile constantly pulling him, beckoning him onwards, he thought it was a wonder that he took even _that_ long.

She looked up as the wind dropped him on the windowsill, and Jack saw once again the flash of fear on her face before it cleared. "Winter," she greeted in surprise.

He lifted a hand. "Hey. I'm - uh, I'm back."

She nodded, but her eyes were grave. "You left so quickly - I was beginning to wonder if I had imagined you."

Jack couldn't help but flinch at that.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, taking a few steps closer. "If you left because I offended you in any way - "

He shook his head. "No, it wasn't you. It... wasn't."

"Good," Elsa said. They stood there, looking at each other, and Jack thought, _oh no, not an awkward silence. Say something, say anything -_

"What can you do?" he blurted out, and Elsa looked at him in surprise. He cleared his throat. "With your powers, I mean."

"Well... " She motioned to the storm outside.

Jack leaned on his staff and smiled knowingly at her. "I bet you made this tower, didn't you?"

Her eyes darted around the wide room, almost as if she had forgotten it was there. "Yes," she said. "Long ago."

''Hmm." He pretended to look critically at the floors and walls. "It's good, but it needs something... that's right." He grinned at her. "Decoration."

She looked at him uncertainly. "Decoration?"

"Sure." He flipped his staff around and touched it against the ground. Frost radiated out under his feet, curling out in twisting, lace-like designs. "See?" he said approvingly as her eyes widened. "It looks better already."

"You use your staff to channel your power?" she asked, looking from the ground up to him.

"Yeah. For some reason, I can't really do it with my bare hands." He shrugged and twirled his staff back to its upright position. "It's like a conduit, I guess. But it's okay - I don't mind."

"Conduit?" she repeated.

Whoops. That was a modern word, so she probably wasn't familiar with it. "Yeah," he said, "like a catalyst, I guess. Without my staff, I'm not - " He almost said _I'm not Jack Frost_, but he managed to catch himself in time. "I'm not me," he amended.

"Yes. I suppose without my powers, I wouldn't be me, either." Elsa glanced at the ground and then up at Jack. She took a few steps back, then dug the heel of her foot purposefully against the ground. Ice shot out, geometric and complicated, fanning out until it created an enormous snowflake on the ground. When she looked up at him, Jack was nodding appreciatively.

"It looks better already," he told her. "But y'know, the rest of the floor looks pretty bare."

Elsa met his gaze. Without speaking, she moved to another part of the room. Jack grinned, mirroring her. In no time at all the floor was covered with spiraling designs that twisted and intwined with enormous snowflakes, like an etched mosaic in the floor. Jack moved on to the walls and Elsa followed, her fingertips dancing in time to the soft scraping sound of Jack's staff across the ice. When they met on the far side of the room, Elsa was actually so focused on the task that her hand grazed the back of his. She stilled immediately, her eyes darting to their hands. A delicate sparkle of frost had bloomed along his knuckles, and she stared at it for a few moments in shock.

"Your hand..." she began, but trailed off.

Jack realized he was holding his breath and turned to look at Elsa, waiting for her to remember. _You can, you know_, he wanted to say. _Remember this. Remember the past._

_ Remember me._

Quickly she drew her hand away and turned her head, hiding her eyes. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's alright," Jack said, even though it wasn't.

"I just... for a minute, your hand seemed..." she faltered.

"Warm?" he supplied.

She nodded and glanced back at him. Jack looked into her eyes and searched her face, but he saw nothing there except puzzlement. There was no curiosity, no pleasure or joy - not even a flicker of recollection. Elsa showed none of the emotions that he had once seen when she touched him before. Jack had expected it, but it hurt all the same.

That terrible, terrible emptiness was there in her eyes, and it haunted him.

"I've got to go," he said.

"Alright," she said.

That was all. Just a one-word response, and it felt like a slap in Jack's face. Elsa - _his_ Elsa - would never have said that. She never would have accepted his sudden departure so easily - she would have said goodbye, at least.

He stopped at the window and turned back. "I don't know when I'll be back."

"That's fine." She looked at him placidly.

"So you really don't care?" he asked.

She blinked. "Care? I don't... I don't understand."

Jack groaned quietly. "I guess what I'm trying to say is... even though you only met me a couple days ago, would you care if I don't come back?"

She only looked at him. "I don't know."

Elsa was telling the truth; Jack just had to take one look at her face, and he knew. The sorrow spiked inside him and he nodded slowly.

"Okay," he said, and his voice sounded lost, even to his own ears. "Okay. I understand."

He left before she could see the disappointment on his face.

* * *

The days began to fall into a similar sort of pattern: Jack would come and visit Elsa for a while, but leave when his feelings of misery or anguish conquered his ability to pretend them away. Then, after his confidence and hope bounced back, he returned to see her.

At first they only talked. Well, really it was just Jack who talked; Elsa's comments always brought the conversation to a dead end, so Jack had to compensate. He told her about some of the adventures he'd gone on: trips all around the world and all the jokes he'd played on people. But even as he talked, Jack realized how little he had actually done in his years leading to the present. His pranks, while fun at the time, were pretty much all the same in retrospect.

It kind of made him sad, that he had wasted his time like that.

Jack tried to tell Elsa about the Guardians, but she wouldn't let him; every time he brought up North, Bunny, or the others, Elsa shut her eyes and turned away. She told him she didn't want to hear about them and, when he asked why, she only got up and walked away.

So then Jack told Elsa about Jamie. She listened to Jack's tale about how Jamie was the first human boy who had actually seen him, and how gloriously wonderful it was to be noticed. She listened with an air of seriousness and when he finished, she said, "but I don't understand why you would want to be seen in the first place."

Jack sat back, surprised. "Because I never had been, before." _Except for you_, he added silently. "Because it sort of felt like I was being ignored. Like there was no point to me being here - like I had no purpose."

Elsa smiled faintly. "And that mattered very much to you."

He looked up at her, searching for any signs of memory in her face. "Do you know what yours is? Your purpose, I mean?"

"Of course." She clasped her arms tightly around her knees. "I'm going to stay here, where no one will find me."

Jack's mouth fell open. "What?"

"If I conceal myself, if no one knows I'm here, then no one will be hurt by my powers." She glanced at Jack, almost reassuringly. "You share my curse, so you are safe from me."

"Is that what you believe?" Jack asked. His voice was soft with disbelief and pain. How could she think that her purpose was to - to exile herself and pretend she didn't exist? "Do you really think that's true?" he asked her.

She met his gaze. "I know it is."

The words welled up inside him, longing to be freed - _Elsa, why would you think that? You are beautiful and kind, and you would never hurt anyone. You were meant for more, so much more_ - but he knew she wouldn't listen.

"It doesn't make you happy," he told her quietly.

She shrugged one shoulder. "I don't mind. Really. I don't."

He knew she didn't mind - that made it all the more tragic.

Jack got up to leave. Elsa watched him silently, just like she always did. At the window, he turned back for his final word. "You aren't a monster. You aren't, Elsa."

She only looked away.

* * *

Then Jack decided that talking was the wrong approach to bring Elsa back. The first day had gone well, when they had made frost together, so maybe some more activities were in order. He told her to follow him outside and asked if she knew any winter games.

"A few," she admitted. "But I haven't... I haven't played any in years."

"That's okay," he said, ignoring the dubious look that crossed her face. "It'll all come back to you in no time. How about a snowball fight?"

She shook her head. "Not today."

"No? Alright. We could make snow angels, or build a snowman - "

"_No_!"

Jack stared at Elsa, her panicked shout sill ringing in the air. She looked stricken, her face twisted in sudden agony. She took a shaking breath and pressed her fingers against her temples, wincing. "No," she said, and her sweet voice was hoarse. "No, please - anything but that."

"Sure," he said. "Sure, okay." He wanted to go to her, to take her hand and ask her what was wrong, but he didn't want to frighten her, or worse: risk receiving a dead stare in return. It was a paralyzing feeling - one he had felt every single day he saw her.

He wished the old Elsa could return.

He wished he knew how to bring her back.

"So, snow angels, then?" he asked.

She sent him a relieved look, and Jack felt the pain in his heart lift slightly. It was the first hint of real emotion he had seen from her, and he hoped that increased activity would bring more to the surface.

They made snow angels and went sledding, skiing, and ice skating. One day, Jack was even able to convince her to build a fort and have a small snowball fight with him. But through it all, no matter what Jack tried, he couldn't get an honest response from her. Elsa did smile, but there was no mirth in it; her smiles were an exercise in muscle movement only, not an expression of merriment. It was utterly _empty_, like all her words had been. There was almost no emotion in her at all.

It hurt.

Jack assumed the pain would go away in time; he figured that either Elsa would get better and he wouldn't have a reason to be sad anymore, or he would just become used to the fact that she wasn't the same girl he remembered and move on from there.

It didn't.

He hadn't counted on his enduring hope that he might show up one day and Elsa would be the way she used to be: kind but sad, with all her memories back.

That never happened. Jack knew it wouldn't happen - of course he did - but somehow he still expected it.

He hadn't taken into account his damned _optimism_, either. Going back, expecting Elsa to have improved - expecting that he could change her - it was too much. He couldn't take the brutal roller coaster of feelings that she made in him.

It was killing him.

Maybe not literally, but sometimes he felt like it.

Jack blamed himself. If only he had tried to find her earlier, if only he had said something different to her that day, if only he could find a way to make Elsa remember him -

He cursed Pitch, but he knew it wasn't entirely the Bogeyman's fault. Not really.

It was his.

Jack's confidence began to erode. Why couldn't he get through to Elsa? What was he doing wrong? Elsa wasn't interested in fun - she wasn't interested in anything. And, Jack suspected, she wasn't really interested in _him_, either. No matter how he tried to bring some cheer to her life, no matter how makes jokes he told or fun things they did together, it didn't seem to matter. Nothing got through to her.

But then again, he had been a failure for so long that it shouldn't have been surprising.

His faith began to fail. If he - if even a _Guardian_ - couldn't help Elsa, then who could? He had always sort of thought that she could remember him if she wanted to, and Jack just had to trigger the hidden memories somehow. But as time passed, he decided that he was wrong; her memory was well and truly gone. He was just wasting his time, and Elsa would never open up to him. This new Elsa, this fragment of her former self - that was all she would ever be.

The old Elsa was never coming back.

He began to dread his visits. Jack hated that - he _wanted_ to make progress and he _wanted_ that to be the reason he was going back, but it wasn't. Every time he saw Elsa, when she looked up as the wind announced his presence, the look of attentive surprise on her face always made him think, _maybe, just maybe, she'll remember _-

But it was just his hopes playing with him. Her expression always fell away, back into her usual blank look, and each time that made it harder and harder to stay.

He knew her face by heart: her wide eyes, blue as deep ice, and her pale face with its delicate sprinkle of pale freckles across her nose. He knew the cadence of her soft voice, and the rhythm of her footsteps across the floor. He knew the design of her ice-spun train and could count the snowflakes in her hair with his eyes closed. He knew her now, better than ever - but he didn't really _know_ her.

So really, he was right back where he started.

Except it was worse, in every way possible.

To be with Elsa, but to be so far away from her, with no hope of being close -

It was the worst kind of pain.

Sometimes he wished he _was_ dying. Maybe then the pain would go away.

If he was gone, maybe then he would mean something to her.

Maybe that would bring her back.

* * *

Winter was unhappy.

He tried not to let it show, but Elsa could tell.

It was obvious in the little things, like his tired smile and weak laugh. He no longer told her stories, and there was a hesitation in his voice when he greeted her or spoke to her. And when he came to visit, he only watched her with an injured look on his face.

Sometimes Elsa wondered what was wrong. She wanted to ask him, but she suppressed the desire. _Conceal, don't feel_ - that was what her parents had always taught her, and the advice had never steered her wrong before.

_Besides_, she thought, _Winter will probably leave soon, anyway. It would be best if I cared as little as possible._

_ Then it will hurt less._

Elsa knew he was going; she could see it in his eyes. He was detached, withdrawn. One day he probably would stop coming altogether.

Just like everyone else.

_It will be very soon_, Elsa thought, glancing up as Winter touched down inside the window. There was a deep weariness to his face that had been growing ever since he arrived, and Elsa decided that this might be his last visit.

_And I won't feel_, she told herself. _I won't care_.

As always, she waited for him to speak. Winter usually greeted her brightly and then jumped right into a story or a suggestion for the day, but this time he stayed silent. Elsa glanced his way a few times, wondering what he could be doing.

Winter was just standing there, his hand on his staff, staring out the window.

When he finally spoke a few minutes later, it was a single word: her name.

"Elsa."

There was something in his voice - something that was soft and emotional, something that caught her breath, though she couldn't pinpoint why. She turned, and he was looking at her, his blue eyes like the deep, treacherous waters of a stormy ocean.

"Elsa," he said, and his voice was heavy and strained. "Do I make you happy?"

"Happy?" she echoed. It was an odd question, and she tilted her head inquisitively to one side. "What do you mean?"

His throat worked as he repositioned his grip on his staff. "I mean," he said slowly, "do you feel happy when I come? When you see me, when I visit... are you glad?"

Elsa looked away. "I don't know."

"Then what do you feel? Sad? Angry?"

"I don't know." Elsa looked away from the intense burn in his eyes. _Conceal_, she told herself. _Don't feel_.

"You don't know, or you don't care?" Winter questioned.

Both. Neither. Elsa shut her eyes and gave a quick little nod.

"You've got to care," he said. "That's the only way - I mean, that's the only way you can really enjoy life."

He was asking her to start feeling again. Elsa squeezed her eyes tighter and shook her head. No, she couldn't. She wouldn't. "All I want is to endure," she whispered.

"But don't you want to be happy?" There was a raw aching in his voice, sharp and ragged. It made Elsa want to cry.

_No_, she told herself sternly. _Don't feel. Don't feel, don't let him know._

_ Feel nothing._

_ Stay safe._

"Not if it means I'll be hurt," Elsa rasped, pushing against the hard part in her throat to be heard.

Winter made a noise, then - a sort of growl mixed with a desolate moan, and Elsa looked up to see his hand fisted in his hair. "If he did this to you," he ground out, "if the reason you're like this is because of Pitch Black, then I'm... I promise you, I will make him regret it, Elsa."

_Pitch Black_. The name echoed in her head, the words filling her with darkness, with fear. It settled inside her, and Elsa could feel herself starting to remember -

_No. No no no -_ Elsa clapped her hands on the sides of her head and _pushed_ the memories away. _No, I don't want to know. I don't want to remember, I don't want to feel -_

"Elsa." Jack was there, standing right in front of her, his staff leaning against the inside of one shoulder. He took her hands in his and gently pulled them away. His eyes were kinder, softer - but there was still pain lurking in their depths. "Elsa... all I want..." His voice broke and he gave her a wincing smile. "I just want you to be happy."

Happiness required caring, and caring meant that she had to feel. Elsa looked down at their hands and watched as a curling tendril of frost bloomed on her skin where he was holding her. "It doesn't matter," she said quietly.

"Yes, it does." He cradled her hands tenderly, as if he was afraid he might break her. "Everyone needs happiness, Elsa. Even someone as sad and beautiful as you."

The words resonated inside her, warm and comforting. Elsa shook her head against the sensation, and in denial of Winter's words.

"Do I make you happy?" he asked. His voice was low and a little breathy, but Elsa could hear the hope that he was trying so hard to hide.

"I don't know," she began, then realized she was right: she had no idea what she was feeling.

She was... she felt...

" 'Cause if I don't make you happy," Winter said, "then I won't come back."

Elsa said nothing. She told herself that she knew this was coming.

"What do you feel, Elsa?" he asked.

_Nothing. I feel nothing_. "I don't know.

"You've got to know."

_Conceal everything. Don't feel_. Elsa pulled her hands away and stepped back. "I told you, I don't know. I - I don't know anything. Why do you ask? Why do you... why do you always ask? Why are you always asking?"

Winter didn't answer. Elsa finally looked up at him, but his head was turned to the window, where she could see the long undulating ribbons of the aurora shifting in the sky. "Why?" she repeated, but he didn't turn. "Why do you always ask? Why can't you just... _Winter_."

Winter closed his eyes, and she saw him swallow. "Because," he said, and his voice was little more than a whisper. "I have to know if I have a chance."

"A chance?" she repeated.

He looked at her then, and his face was full of sorrow and heartbreak. Something inside Elsa recoiled at the sight. "Just _tell_ me," he begged.

Elsa backed away. _Say nothing, show nothing. You are stone, you are ice_. "Don't ask," she said. "Don't ask me, I can't... I won't..."

Winter shook his head, advancing slowly. "I have to," he said. "I have - I have to _know_. Elsa, tell me. Please. I just want... I just wish I could help you." He reached out to her, his hand just grazing her cheek. "Just let me..."

The emotions rose, overpowering her, breaking her control. Elsa slapped his hand away and curled her arms around herself protectively. _Conceal, stay safe. Don't let him know -_

"No!" she screamed. "You can't help me - no one can! I can't give you anything. I won't feel! I _won't_!" She took a trembling breath and turned away, pressing her head down against her chest. "Just... Just leave me alone. Just go away, Winter. Please."

All was silent, but Elsa didn't dare look up. For a long while, it seemed, she stood there, waiting. Listening. When Winter finally spoke, his voice was carefully emotionless. "Okay," he said. "Okay, if that's what you want. I'll go."

Elsa waited for his goodbye. He never left without telling her goodbye. But he didn't say anything and when she looked up, the room was empty.

He was gone.

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest. Elsa took a deep breath, but it didn't calm her. If anything, her heart was racing more erratically than before. _Why?_ Elsa wondered, pressing a hand over her breast. Winter was gone, and his piercing questions with him. She should be relieved, or relaxed. Instead her body was reacting somehow, but to what?

It wasn't just her body, though. Her thoughts felt like a million birds trapped in a cage, flitting to and fro, all trying to escape. But she couldn't think too probingly about anything, for fear she would stumble upon what she had buried deep within her mind.

She refused to let herself discover it.

Elsa began to pace, hoping that movement would help distract her. Her breath was coming in little staggered gasps and her body was shaking, as if her blood was thrumming in her veins. Why was she acting like this? _Think of that, instead_, Elsa told herself. She held out her hands, watching as they shivered before her eyes. _What is wrong with me?_ she wondered. _Am I angry? Nervous? Excited?_

_No - _

_ I'm scared._ Elsa felt her heart skip a little in response, and she curled her hands into loose fists. _But how could that be? I've never been afraid of Winter before..._

_No, not afraid of him - afraid_ for _him_, Elsa realized. _Afraid for_ me.

_I'm worried he won't come back._

"Of course he will," Elsa said aloud, but she could hear the tremor in her voice. She wasn't sure at all that he would return.

Yet she had expected this, hadn't she? She had been so sure - so why did it bother her now?

_I want him to come back._

"Don't feel," she whispered, but the damage was already done. Elsa shut her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek. She wanted him to return. She wished he could come back, with that carefree smile and mischievous look in his eyes -

"Come back," Elsa whispered.

She knew he wouldn't.

She had sent him away.

The pain was terrible: wrenching and inescapable. It was everything Elsa had tried to avoid - and now it was too late. She could feel now - more than she had in many years.

It was too much.

She needed Winter. She needed his gentle touch, his kind words, the sense of safety that he seemed to bring whenever he visited...

So Elsa broke the vow she had made to herself: she let herself remember him.

She pictured him the first day he appeared to her, his bright smile and eager demeanor a far cry from the Winter she knew now. She recalled the events they participated in together - the 'snow sports,' as Winter called them - and the many, many tales he had told her as they stood at the window looking at the night sky. She remembered the way he laughed at his own jokes, the way he used to lean in close when he talked, as if he was confessing a secret, and how his eyes lingered on her when he thought she wasn't looking.

She remembered the sound of his voice.

He seemed to care so much for her. He always asked how she was, and what she was thinking about - and he said he wanted her to be happy.

_No one ever said that to me before_, she thought, _and yet Winter did. He was a stranger, but he cared._

What were his exact words? Elsa closed her eyes to remember more clearly. "Everyone needs happiness, Elsa," she quoted carefully. "Even someone as sad and beautiful as you."

_Sad and beautiful..._

The words burned in her mind, bright as a glittering flake of freshly-fallen snow. The grey mist in her mind evaporated in the light's wake, dissolving the barriers she had kept closed and intact for so long. The kindness of his voice shone upon the darkest corners and furthest reaches, unearthing everything she had once shut away. Suddenly -

Elsa remembered.

The memories rushed upon her like a tidal wave, like a monster of shadow, threatening to conquer her, body and soul - and then she caught sight of one memory, like a streak of beauty in the endless night of her heinous life -

It was a peaceful morning. The sun was just rising over the sea, its timid rays turning the thin layer of ice and snow into something iridescent, something rare. The entire city glowed with it, reflecting back into her eyes -

And there was a boy. He had ruffled hair and a brown cloak that was fringed with delicate swirls of frost, but his expression was hesitant and earnest. He had blinked in confusion - or maybe it was sadness? - at her words, and as he looked up at her, she realized how pale he really was. Pale like _her_.

He had leaned on his staff and tilted his head to one side, his eyes staring into hers. He must have found the truth there, because the muscles around his eyes tightened. "Everyone needs happiness," he had told her, "even someone as sad and beautiful as you."

He had said that. _Winter_ had said that.

He had met her before, and he said those exact same words - even back then.

She had hoped Winter would come. A part of her had believed that he felt the same connection she had, and that he might show up one day, riding the wind -

And he had; Winter had finally come, all these years later.

But that wasn't his real name.

Elsa remembered the easy way he had talked to her - his light shrug, his apologetic grin - and his words when he introduced himself on the bridge.

"Jack," she said softly. She turned to look out the window, but the aurora was gone - erased, as if it had never been.

He had come, but she sent him away.

"Jack Frost," Elsa whispered. "Please..."

_Come back._

* * *

**A/N: There will be more.**


	5. A Heart of Stone

**A/N: Wow, this week has just flown! Black Hearts Ball was fun, but I'm really glad to be back in the rhythm of this story. **

**So many thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favorite'd, and loved the previous chapters. I never thought I'd get five chapters out of my initial idea - with more to come - so thank you for keeping my muse alive! As an added bonus, this particular chapter ends pretty nicely, with no cliffhangers in sight! ...for now.  
**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

"We," Nicholas St. North said soberly, "have a problem."

All five Guardians were gathered in Santa's personal workroom. The big guy himself was leaning against the huge wooden table, the Sandman at his side. Toothiana was hovering by the rafters, her wings a blur of color above her back. Bunny was positioned by the supply shelf off to the side, idly fingering one of his boomerangs. Jack stood in the back of the room by the big windows where he could easily see everyone. He was close enough to be part of the conversation, but far enough away that he didn't have to share eye contact with anyone, which was exactly what he wanted right then.

"Yeah," Tooth said, her voice pitched high with concern. "We do have a problem."

North turned to face her, his face transformed in complete surprise. "_You_ know? But how do you know about problem? I only just realize - "

The Tooth Fairy sent him an apologetic smile. "Oh, no no no. Actually I meant - I mean, I shouldn't have mentioned it, but I couldn't help but notice... Jack, are you feeling okay?"

Jack looked up to find everyone staring at him. "I'm fine," he said shortly.

"Now that 'cha mention it, Tooth, he does look a bit different." Bunny's whiskers lifted in a lopsided grin. "Ya look terrible, mate."

Jack glared. "I said I'm fine."

"I'm sorry," Tooth said, and her face fell. "I was just worried - "

"Well don't," he said sharply. He rounded on North. "I thought there was a real problem here. That's why you called everyone, right? So tell us what it is."

Toothiana shared a glance with Bunny. St. North's eyes darted back and forth from Jack to Tooth and Bunny, then he clapped his hands together. "Ah! Yes! It is very important. I have news."

"Yeah, well, at least you didn't drag me away two days from Easter this time," Bunny muttered.

"News," North said dramatically, "about Pitch Black."

Toothiana gasped. Jack crossed his arms, frowning at no one in particular. _I just talked to him, it feels like_, he thought - but when he stopped to consider, he couldn't precisely say how long ago it had been. A few months, maybe? He watched the Sandman turn to give North a dubious look, an enormous question mark appearing above his head. _Yeah_, Jack thought, _what are you up to now, Pitch Black?_

"How can he be active already?" Bunny protested in exasperation. "I mean, it ain't been that long since we put 'em away last time."

"Yes, but now is different." North leaned forward. "The Bogeyman has found an ally."

Jack's eyes narrowed. Tooth and Bunny began talking at once and the Sandman's mouth fell open. North raised his hands for silence. "I know," he said, "I know - I ask myself same thing: why would somebody join Pitch? And who? I do not know. But! I can describe."

The others waited expectantly as North cleared his throat. "It is girl," he announced, "with white hair and blue dress. I am bad at ages, so I guess... late teenager? Early adult? In any case - "

"Whoa, okay. Stop. _Stop_." Jack shook his head. "You've got it all wrong. She's not with Pitch anymore."

"You know the girl?" North asked in amazement.

"Yeah, and she's not with the Bogeyman. She used to be, but that was a long time ago."

"But this girl - she has winter powers like you - "

"Sounds like a cousin or somethin'," Bunny pitched in, swinging around to look at Jack.

"Yeah, she does control ice and snow," Jack said in a hard voice, trying his best to ignore the Easter Bunny's comment. "But that doesn't mean she's evil. Like I said, she left Pitch a long time ago."

The others just looked at him - even the Sandman, whose question mark was still hovering above his head. Jack hated their stares. It reminded him of his first days with them, when all he seemed to do was make mistakes or do stupid things.

But Elsa - no, she didn't deserve to be turned into a villain like this. "And her name," Jack added, indignance clear in his voice, "is Elsa."

Bunny, Toothiana, Sandman, and St. North all looked at each other. "You seem to know a lot about her, Jack," Tooth said slowly. "When did you meet her?"

"Right after I woke up - before I met any of you."

She looked at North.

"Look, you guys have nothing to worry about. Elsa isn't working with Pitch, so I don't even know why you're suspicious of her... why are you, anyway?" He snatched his staff from where it was leaning against the window and thumped it against the ground. "Where did you get your information, North? Who gave it to you - Pitch? It certainly wasn't Elsa."

Toothiana twisted her hands together. "Do you know that for sure, Jack?"

"Yeah." His voice was low and fierce. He glanced pointedly at St. North, who chuckled.

"No," he said in that jovial tone of his, "no one told me. It just came to me." He tapped his forehead. "I _remember_."

"You remembered?" Bunny repeated doubtfully.

"Yes! I was thinking about that day when I fought Pitch Black and he attacked with ice. Bunny, you remember? Tooth? Sandy?"

"Hang on, but you said he distracted you," Bunny said. "You said he used shadows to dump snow and ice on you - "

"Yes, then Yetis dug me out. But you see? I remember what happened! It was girl - Elsa."

Jack looked out the windows. They were all misted over, but through it Jack could see the fuzzy shapes of the snow-covered mountains. It reminded him of the bleak landscape outside Elsa's tower. "And you remembered," he said quietly. "Just like that."

"Yes, like that!" St. North said, beaming.

If only remembering was as easy as North made it sound. Jack let out his breath in a long sigh.

Bunny twirled the boomerang in his paw and pointed it at North. "So lemme get this straight: we're not in danger from Jack's cousin?" he asked.

Jack groaned. "She's _not_ my cousin. And she's known as the Snow Queen, if you've heard of her," Jack added, though he hated the title.

Bunny looked at Toothiana and the Sandman, who shook their heads. "Nah," he said, "can't say that I have." He began to scratch the back of his hear with a hind leg.

The words themselves didn't make Jack angry - it was the careless way Bunny said it, like he didn't really even care who Elsa was. And now he was scratching at ticks, or whatever it was that rabbits got. It _pissed Jack off_. "Elsa is kind," he said in a level, acidic voice. "She is polite, thoughtful, and loving. She is beautiful in every way possible, but I don't expect _you_ to realize that because you wouldn't notice even if she stood right in front of you!"

Jack fully expected that his insult would set Bunny off - which was fine, because he _wanted_ to fight someone. But when Bunny slowly lowered his leg, Jack was astonished to see amusement growing on his face. "Frost," Bunny said, "are you... are you crackin' onto her?"

"Uh... what?"

"You _are_." He grinned at Toothiana and North, who clearly knew what he was talking about from the answering smiles on their faces. "Lookit that," he said, just managing to hold back a laugh. "Our own little larrikin is fallin' in love."

Jack barely prevented himself from spitting a word that would have made Toothiana blanch. "Forget it," he muttered, pushing past the Sandman to the door. He should have known they were going to make fun of him. They always took the opportunity to tease him, _always_, even if it wasn't funny to begin with.

At least he'd managed to derail the possibility that Elsa was still evil. That was what mattered.

"Jack." A heavy hand grasped his shoulder as North's shadow fell across the door. "Are you alright?"

He shrugged off the arm. "I'm fine, _Santa_."

"Hm. No, I do not think so." He grabbed Jack's arm again and pushed open the door. Despite Jack's protests, North pulled Jack down the hall to another smaller door, which turned out to be a cupboard filled with paint.

"Wow," Jack said sarcastically as he looked around at the shelves and shelves of paint cans. "And I always wondered by the Yetis never ran out of red or blue."

"Now," North said, shutting the door behind him. "Tell me what is wrong."

"Yeah, no thanks. I think I'm good."

North crossed his arms, smiling smugly. "We will not leave until you do."

Jack glared, but he could tell that North was serious. "So you're really gonna do this to me?" he asked flatly.

North nodded vigorously. "Of course! So, is it because of your girl? Elsa?"

Jack sighed. He didn't even bother to correct St. North. "...yeah. I saw her again, after all this time, but she doesn't remember me. Not at all."

"Memory is strange thing - sometimes, it returns when least expected." He chuckled and tapped his head. "I should know."

"I know, but... I thought... I mean, we _had_ something," he argued. "How could she forget about that? I kept hoping her memory would return; I visited her for _months,_ but it's like she doesn't even want to remember!" Jack shook his head. "I don't know what to do. She doesn't even... " He breathed out slowly. "She doesn't even like me anymore."

"Impossible!" North declared.

"No, it is. She said... she said I don't mean anything to her. I don't know what else I can do."

"Jack." This time, when North put his hand on Jack's shoulder, he didn't shrug it off. "Being a Guardian is not just to protect children, but to help each other. To help our friends. Why do you think we all went to Tooth Palace when it was under attack?"

"Because Pitch was there," Jack said, though he knew that wasn't all North was getting at.

"Yes, and she is my family. All the Guardians are my family." The corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Even you."

Jack blinked up into North's face. The admission touched him, and for a moment he felt lost for words.

"So. Ask yourself: what is Elsa to you?"

Jack looked away. What was Elsa to him? A friend? Family? Or was she something else?

_There's no word that describes her_, Jack thought, glancing back at North. _She's just... to me, she's..._

"Everything," he said quietly.

North nodded slowly. There was something like pride in his eyes, though why, exactly, Jack didn't know. "Then what will you do? Leave her?"

"No!" Jack said quickly - then stopped as he realized that was _precisely_ what he had done. Sure, he had followed the Lights and answered North's summons, but he had given Elsa up.

_She is everything to me_, Jack thought - he knew it when he first met her, and he knew it now. _I can't - I don't want to live without her_.

"I'll go back," Jack said. "I'll always go back to her."

"Sounds to me," North said, giving him a knowing look, "that you might love her."

Jack just looked at him. Did he? There were too many emotions - pain, longing, and anxiety - that he didn't know how to even begin to answer.

Perhaps North saw a glimpse of Jack's inner turmoil on his face, because he smiled. His hand tightened on Jack's shoulder. "Then go to her."

* * *

Elsa was gone when Jack returned.

He searched every inch of the tower, from the spiral staircase down below to the wide room at the top - but she was nowhere to be found.

She was gone.

"No," Jack sighed. He stared at the walls and the floor, his frost and her snowflakes still vibrant, as if they had been made only yesterday. Jack sank to his knees, pressing one hand against a snowflake. Elsa must have decided to go somewhere on her own. That was the only explanation that made sense; she didn't remember Pitch, and no one else knew she was here...

So why did she leave?

_She must have had a reason_. Jack looked out the window. _Maybe she went somewhere else in Antarctica? But why would she do that when she'd already made this tower?_

_ To get away from me? _He winced. _No no, I told her I wasn't coming back._

_ Where would she go?_

_If she remembered - _

"No," Jack said sternly, but the idea actually made sense: if Elsa had regained her memories, she might try to find him.

"Then she could be anywhere," he gasped.

_Or maybe she went back to the places she remembered, like her home. Or to Pitch_. Jack shuddered. _No, she wouldn't do that, she couldn't..._

_ Or she could have gone to the bridge._

"The bridge," Jack whispered. Of course - that was where they'd met. If by chance Elsa had found her memories, and if she wanted him to find her, then - then -

Then that's where she would be.

Jack knew it was a stretch, and a big one at that, but he had to know. He hoped he was right. If not -

Well, then he guessed that things couldn't get any worse.

* * *

Elsa remembered that the city had once been very quiet - just a small village with mountains at its' back and the sea to its' front. She remembered the small clustered houses and the meandering cobbled streets that wove between them. She remembered odd little details: a tailor's sign swinging gently in the breeze; a seabird landing gracefully on the eves of a rooftop; the baker as he unlocked his door, preparing for another day. It had all been so serene, so soothing in the same comforting and prosaic way that Arendelle had been.

The city did not look like that now.

The mountains and the sea were unchanged, but that was all; the crowded houses had been cleared away for high-rise apartment buildings, and the cobbled roads replaced by a gridwork of straight, chalk-grey streets. The roar of accelerating cars and blaring horns of traffic easily carried up to where Elsa stood on top of the nearest tower of the steel suspension bridge. _Even this_, she thought, looking down at the slim highway below her, _has changed so much_.

She had stood there for days, perched high above the city as the wind whipped her hair and dragged at her long train, and watched. That was all - she had just watched. And even after her long hours as a silent observer, Elsa still could not reconcile the sight below her.

She did not know how many years she had existed without her memory, seemingly out of reach of time's counting, but she suspected it was longer than she guessed.

Elsa did not like the changes to the city - they were too strange, too impersonal to her. She missed the nearness of the old town, the way it had been so familiar, so tangible, so _real_. This... this city was like a dream. The whole _world_ was a dream of glass and steel.

And Arendelle was probably like this, too.

Elsa couldn't prevent the shudder that forced her eyes away. "I'm a stranger now," she whispered, glancing at the sunset that was slowly turning the sky to bright gold. At least with the night came quiet and the city's sparkling lights - _that_ she did like.

There was a clatter behind her on the tower, and Elsa turned to see Jack Frost climbing to his feet. His face was a picture of white shock. "Elsa, what are you doing up here?" he shouted, the wind snatching away his voice almost as fast as he could speak.

Elsa looked up at him. She opened her mouth to respond, but seeing Jack there with that concern on his face - concern for _her_ - stole away all the careful words she had planned to say. Her cheeks burned and she turned away.

"Elsa." Jack's hand curled around her elbow. She cringed, but he didn't seem to notice. "Elsa, come down with me. We can go to the bottom of the bridge - "

"No." Her voice cracked as she tried to raise it above the buffeting wind. "Not there."

"How about the mountains? We could... we could sit in the snow..."

Elsa looked back at Jack. His face was flushed with embarrassment, but he didn't drop his eyes. It reminded Elsa of the day they met. _He hasn't changed at all_, she thought.

Except that he had. She remembered the many days when he had come to her tower on the premise of some excuse or other - to go sledding, or to make snow angels - but also to talk to her. No, just to _be_ with her. Elsa had seen that, even then, and it had warmed her despite her attempts not to feel.

And Jack Frost was here again, talking to her. He hadn't turned his back on her despite everything she said, and he hadn't given her up for lost. He knew that snow calmed her, that it was her comfort, her element - it was his, too, after all, so he understood -

After everything, he was still trying to cheer her up.

"I..." Elsa swallowed. Her eyes stung and she blinked rapidly, forcing the unshed tears away. "I do," she said quietly. "I want to sit in the snow... with you."

It was a wonder that Jack heard her at all, but he did. The stress lines around his eyes vanished and a look of - relief? Happiness? Elsa didn't know - spread across his face, making him look younger, like the bright-eyed young man she had met on this same bridge centuries ago.

Jack held out his staff and Elsa gripped it with both hands. Jack took a step closer, his free hand grazing her shoulder, and Elsa nodded that she was ready.

She expected them to zip away with all the force of a gale, or at least feel a sudden and unpleasant lurch as they left the ground; from the way Elsa had seen Jack hurl himself through her window, she was anticipating a nasty bout of nausea. So Elsa was relieved when they only lifted into the air and, when she sent Jack a reassured look, he gave her a tentative smile in return.

Elsa didn't watch the ground flying by beneath them - that would have made her ill for certain - but it didn't take long until she felt her heels sink into the soft powder of freshly-fallen snow. She let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and opened her eyes.

Jack was looking at her with a bemused look on his face. "You'll get used to it," he said.

Elsa nodded, but she wondered if he really would take her on more flights with him - especially after he heard what she had to say.

She made two chairs side-by-side out of ice almost without thinking about it, and Jack whistled appreciatively as he sat down. "You're really a natural at this, aren't you?"

"It's always come easy to me," she said, elegantly arranging her dress as she sat. "Sometimes - If I'm lucky - I've been able to control it."

"Yeah, I'll say." He ran his pale fingers over the crystal-smoothness of the armrests. "You'll have to teach me a thing or two, sometime."

"Of course. Anything - whatever you want." Her voice sounded thin and brittle, even to her own ears.

Jack must have heard it too - or else he was looking at her because he expected her to tell him why she had forgotten him. He must be wondering why she had hidden herself away, why she had so many secrets, why she had done all this -

His voice was hesitant. "Elsa - "

"I'm sorry. Jack, I - " She clenched her hands into the folds of her dress. She knew she had to tell him the truth - she _had_ to, he deserved that much - but now that he was here, sitting beside her, the words felt like lead in her mouth.

When Elsa first regained her recollection of Jack, part of her mind had still been closed off. She had wanted to see him so much, so she traveled to the bridge, hoping he would find her there. But as time went on and Jack did not appear, Elsa began to wonder what other pieces of her past were hidden from her. She dug through her memories like a starved woman, opening each one until there was nothing left and she knew everything.

She knew what sort of person she was. Jack Frost, with all his goodness and optimism, did not deserve to be attached to a wretch like her.

"It's - It's my fault," she managed to gasp out, which was true enough.

"Whoa whoa, it's okay." His fingers brushed hers, feather-soft. It was almost as if he was afraid she would break if he touched her. "Whatever happened, I'm sure it wasn't your fault."

Elsa turned her head away. "Yes it was."

"I don't believe that." He touched her hand again and this time she caught it, holding his fingers in a tight grip. Jack hesitated for a moment, then reached forward to wrap his other hand around hers. His touch was gentle, like he was holding a panicked bird. "Start at the beginning," he suggested quietly.

"The beginning?" With Arendelle and her coronation and - and Anna? Elsa squeezed his hand. "I - I can't - "

"Did Pitch... did he do anything to you? Did he hurt you?"

Oh. That beginning. "He never hurt me," she said, knowing as she spoke that it was a complete lie; Pitch had never harmed her physically, but he knew a thousand other ways to cause pain, each more terrible than the last. "I just couldn't... be with him anymore. I had lost hope."

"He told you I wasn't real," Jack said.

There was anger in his voice and Elsa looked up, startled. "Pitch combined truth with my fears," she said. "He told me what I... I had begun to think... I believed - "

"It's okay." He shook his head carelessly, but Elsa caught a glimpse of the emotion he was trying to hide. "So you stopped believing in me and everything else. Then what?"

She stared off into the city. The sky was streaked with pink and purple, and the color reflected off the tiny windows like chips of ice. "My parents taught me a phrase when I was a girl, to help me control my powers: _conceal, don't feel. Don't let them know_. When my hope was gone and my powers were out of control, and I felt so guilty about everything and I didn't know what was true anymore, and I felt like I was about to be torn apart by all my fear and sadness - "

She broke off to catch her breath. Jack's hands curved a little more tightly around hers.

"I decided that my parents were right," she said softly. "I didn't want to remember anymore. If I did, then I wouldn't feel. I wouldn't suffer anymore."

"So you got rid of them," Jack finished quietly.

Elsa shut her eyes. She nodded once.

"How?"

"I went to see an old friend." The wind blew against her neck, stirring her hair. It was edged with the iciness of approaching night - just as it had been back then, too. "She... she helped me."

_There was no moon that evening, but the wind was chill; it whipped between the craggy rocks that jutted into the sky, unforgiving and grim. The small valley between the high fells was bleaker than that evening centuries ago when Elsa's father had come, desperate for aid. When Elsa made the summons, only one came: an old troll woman covered in moss._

_ She bowed to Elsa with all the dignity of her ancestors before her. "Queen Elsa," she greeted reverently. The iridescent slime on the mushrooms along her back glowed an eerie green in the darkness. "It has been many years since you returned."_

_ "I'm not a queen anymore," Elsa told her, but the troll only shook her head. _

_ "To me, your highness, you will always be my queen. What do you ask of me?"_

_ Elsa straightened her shoulders. "To have my memory closed forever."_

_ The troll blinked, her weathered face breaking into a horrified expression. "Close your memory? But - But Queen Elsa, that is - "_

_ "Your elder did it once to my sister, did he not?"_

_ "Grand Pabbie was the last who could accomplish such a feat," the troll admitted, "but that was not what he did to Princess Anna; he merely suppress the memories deep within her mind."_

_ "Then that is what I want to do as well," Elsa said firmly. She had tried to live a solitary life after leaving Pitch, but the long hours alone nearly drove her mad. Her thoughts tormented her, reminding her of what she had done. Sometimes she heard Pitch's voice, sometimes Anna's. She tried to escape them, but she didn't know how and the taunting voices were always with her, and her power was constantly screaming in her veins, longing to be freed -_

_ She couldn't take it anymore. _

_ Elsa couldn't endure the terrible sorrow and anger. She didn't want the memories of her heartbreak or her guilt anymore - she didn't want to remember what she had done._

_ So she decided to just get rid of them once and for all._

_ "Queen Elsa," the troll said slowly, "have you... do you really think - "_

_ "You won't talk me out of it, my mind is made up." She looked steadily at the troll. "Will you do it?_

_ The troll sighed. She looked up into Elsa's face, and what she saw - well, if it was only an echo of the misery Elsa felt was suffocating her, then it was enough to convince the old troll. She nodded reluctantly. "I will," she answered quietly, "but I must ask a favor from you in return."_

_ "Anything."_

_ The troll held up a cautionary finger. "Know, Queen Elsa, that I do not have the skill to leave the memories of joy in your head, as Grand Pabbie could for Princess Anna. When I seal your memories, everything will be gone - your childhood, your parents, Anna - "_

_ "I _know_!" Elsa broke in, desperation seeping into her voice. She had thought of that already, and agonized over loosing the few precious moments she treasured the most -_

_ But she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't _live_ with the knowledge that Anna's death had been her fault, that she had nearly killed Santa Claus, that she had become the monster that Pitch Black had designed her to be, that she had become surely irredeemable for all she had done..._

_ There was only one way that she could rid herself of the pain._

_ "I know," Elsa said again, "but I just want... I just need to start over. I need a clean slate, and if that means I have to forget everything to do it, then I will."_

_ The troll shook her head, the crystals around her neck chiming as they clashed together. "Then you give me no choice. But promise me, Queen Elsa, that you will grant my wish."_

_ "I promise."_

_ She sighed again. "Very well. Kneel here, your highness."_

_ Elsa hesitated. "But I haven't given you what you - "_

_ "I know," the troll said with a sad smile, "but you will."_

_ The troll said nothing more, despite Elsa's questions. Knowing that she would get no straight answer, Elsa pushed her concerns away and nodded once. She knelt down before the troll. She shut her eyes as the troll's cold stone hand pressed against her forehead, and Elsa wondered belatedly if she should be nervous, or if it would hurt..._

_ ...and then she was standing. There was a sharp wind whistling through the rocky hills around her, and though it blew against her, stirring the hair in her eyes, she didn't seem to be cold._

_ "Queen Elsa."_

_ She turned and saw an oddly-shaped stone blinking up at her. Elsa blinked in return._

_ "By your request, I have suppressed your memories, but not forever - you have the ability to tap into them and unlock what you have willingly sealed," the stone said. "A word of warning if you do: once regained, the memories will never be forgotten again. It was with great anguish that you asked me to do this, and terrible sadness that I complied. If you should seek your memories, do not forget this fact."_

_ Elsa nodded soberly._

_ "Now I ask you for a favor of my own," the stone - _troll_, Elsa remembered - said softly. "Your powers over ice and snow should be easily suited to the task."_

Snow_, Elsa thought. She opened her hand and a snowflake bloomed to life, beautiful and delicate and _hers._ The newly-awakened memory whispered that she could do so much more - but there was pain buried in that knowledge, and Elsa, shocked by the magnitude of such sorrow, shied away from the discovery._

_ "Yes," Elsa said. She let the snowflake fall to the ground and looked at the troll. "What can I do?"_

_ It was silent for a few moments. "I am the last of my kind in these lands. People no longer believe in the magic of the earth and sky, and they have no respect for the wisdom of the trees. All the others lost the power of speech and the will to live on in such a world years ago, but I... I was once the youngest, but now I am the only one left. And I am tired of being alone."_

_ Elsa didn't answer. This - what the troll wanted from her - was murder. It was a kindness, but it was murder all the same._

_ "You agreed to grant my wish," the troll said, looking slowly up at her._

_ Yes, she did - Elsa remembered that, but she still didn't want to be the one... "I don't think I can - " she began._

_ "Please," the troll interjected. "Queen Elsa, this... it's all I want."_

_ Elsa sighed. She looked down at her long slim fingers, knowing what she must do but hating the thought of it - _

"Elsa?"

She came back to herself with a start. She was hunched over in her chair, her forehead pressed into the heels of her palms. Her body was trembling with the effort to keep herself upright.

A hand pressed gently against her shoulder blades. "Elsa," Jack murmured. "It's okay. If it's too much - I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed..."

Elsa sniffed and Jack sighed, lapsing into silence. _You didn't push_, Elsa wanted to say. _You aren't asking too much. It's because of me, I'm the one who should be - _But the words wouldn't come.

Her breath shook as she exhaled. Jack must have heard because his hand began to move in slow circles across her upper back. Elsa closed her eyes and focused on his touch, letting it take her grief away for just a moment...

"Jack." Elsa raised her head. The city lights were all alight, sparkling like little stars against a violet sky. She gazed at them, knowing it would be easier to speak to Jack if she wasn't looking at him. "There were things in my past... things that I did... " Her throat closed on her words and she swallowed. "I just wanted to forget. I didn't want to remember... Jack, I'm not... what I've done - "

"It's okay," he said. "You don't have to tell me."

He didn't _understand_. "But you think you know me, and you don't even know what I've done - what I became - " She twisted around to look at him, and he was looking back at her with such kindness that for a few seconds she stopped breathing. "I... _hurt_ you. Even without my memories, I caused you pain - "

Elsa caught herself. It wasn't what she had meant to say - not out loud - but it was true. _I did nothing but hurt him_, Elsa thought, turning away. _That's all I've ever done._

"Hey." Jack's hand stilled on her back. He leaned around to look into her eyes. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I mean, you're here and you're talking to me again, so things are already a lot better than they were before." He chuckled a little.

Elsa fought against the emotion that rose inside her, threatening to choke her. Jack was lying, of course - she could see that in the anxiety in his face and his half-hearted smile. He was pretending for her sake, to make her feel better.

...but she did appreciate his effort.

Elsa was used to pretending a calm assurance she did not feel, and for Jack she pretended again. She reached for his hand and, when he twined his fingers with hers, she gave him a smile. The tension in his eyes relaxed and he nodded.

"You're here," he said, and even his voice sounded lighter. "That's what matters."

"That's what matters," Elsa repeated, though she knew it wasn't true.

Not in the slightest.

* * *

**There will be more.  
**


	6. Passage of Time

**A/N: This was a really busy week for me, so I didn't get as much written as I usually do. But I figure that some chapter is better than no chapter, right?**

**Thanks again to everyone who looks forward to this story! Every signed reviewer got a lovely PM about it, but to everyone else: thank you so much! I love all your comments! **

**(To that one person who mentioned something about me having this story totally planned out, I say this: Hahahaaa... nope. I have had several plot bunnies about where this story is going, but they've all evolved the longer I've written. I have plenty of ideas, but I'm not sure how far to take this story - especially because it already is so dark to begin with. So the question is, how much darkness can you guys take?)**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

They sat together for a long while.

The sun quickly sank beyond the horizon. In the cloudy sky above, a few brave stars poked through, giving a glimpse to the black velvet firmament beyond. Jack pointed it out to Elsa and they watched in silence.

There were a few times when Elsa sucked in her breath or opened her mouth, as if she was about to speak, only to withdraw into herself a few moments later. Jack didn't mind - at least, that's what he told himself. Three hundred years of waiting for an answer from the Man in the Moon had made him pretty patient, he thought. So he could wait.

Whenever Elsa was ready, if she felt comfortable, then he'd be there to listen.

Still, it made him sad to see Elsa so discouraged. There was darkness behind her eyes, and her smiles were only passing, fragile things. Jack had tried everything that he thought would make her happy, and none of them had worked. Most of his failure was probably due to the fact that he had no idea what was making Elsa so despondent, but he tried not to think about that.

If only she knew how happy he had been to see that she remembered him again. He'd told her, and it was clear she didn't take him at his word. But he'd believed in her for so long and hoped that she would recover, that - well, it was sort of like a miracle. He figured that if Elsa could remember him again, then she would heal. It might be hard, but he'd be there for her. He'd stay by her. Someday he hoped that she could be the person she once was, the one he remembered so vividly. He _believed_ that she would.

_Believe, _Jack realized. _Maybe that's what she needs to help her bounce back. She just needs someone to believe in her - not just me, but the other Guardians, too. She needs to know we care about her._

_And she needs someone to know she's real... maybe even someone whose belief was strong enough to save the world._

"Elsa," Jack said, turning to look at her. He'd caught her with her mouth open again, about to speak, and she faltered when she heard him say her name.

"Yes?"

"Elsa, I think... I think it's time you met one of my friends."

Her eyes widened. She pulled back a little. "You don't mean - the Guardians?"

Jack shook his head. It made sense now why she had never wanted Jack to talk about them; North had mentioned that he was bested by Elsa in a battle against Pitch. She probably still felt guilty about that. "Nope, not them. Someone else - someone younger."

"Younger?" she repeated, her brows knitting together. "Younger than you?"

He laughed. "Yep, a _whole lot_ younger."

"But... who... ?"

Jack grinned. "Jamie."

* * *

"Do you usually like to catch him unawares?" Elsa asked.

"Nah. Normally I just pop out in front of his friends, but today we'll take it nice and slow."

She smiled a little, knowing he was doing so for her benefit. "Thank you, but do you really think he won't mind if we're... ah, waiting in his room?" She glanced around the messy bedroom, trying hard not to stare at the - were they dirty or clean? - trousers that had been cast aside in a heap by the window.

Jack glanced around too, but there was a look of pride on his face. "He first saw me here, after all. I don't think he'd mind at all. In fact - " He leapt onto the bed and sprawled out, grinning. " - go ahead and make yourself comfortable. He won't care."

The self-satisfied expression on Jack's face teased a surprised giggle out of Elsa. "Well, I suppose I could sit..." She looked around for a seat, but the only chair was piled high with a stack of books. With no other choice but the bed, Elsa slowly sat down as close to the edge as possible.

Jack laughed at her obvious uneasiness. "The bed won't bite, you know. Anyway, I know Jamie'll be here any minute - "

As if on cue the door opened, and Elsa shot nervously to her feet. A boy trudged in - a teenager, from what Elsa could tell, or maybe a little younger - and shrugged off a backpack. He groaned and tossed it unceremoniously on the bed - nearly hitting Jack, who made a squawk of outrage. "Hey now," he said, "if you wanted me to move, you could have just said so."

The boy whipped around. "Jack?"

"Yeah, hey." He answered Jamie's grin with one of his own. "How've you been?"

"Good! Uh, great!" He gestured to the backpack. "Sorry about that. I'm in junior high now, so the homework load is heavier than ever - literally. Other than that, though, I'm good."

Jack sat up. He pointed at Jamie and said teasingly, "so is that the way they wear their hair in junior high?"

He combed his long hair out of his eyes, flashing a sheepish smile. "Yeah, well... most guys do. And, uh... "

"Yeah?"

"And, you know, the girls like it." He ducked his head, blushing, and a wicked grin spread across Jack's face.

"It's Cupcake, isn't it?"

"No, it's not Cupcake!"

Elsa smiled a little, watching them. Jack hadn't exaggerated when he called Jamie a friend. They seemed so close that it was almost like they were brothers, the way they joked and laughed with each other.

She turned to look out the window. It was comforting, in a way, to hear them talk; she hadn't had such a conversation with someone since... well, maybe not even since she was a child. It was nice to be reminded that there were some relationships out there that weren't laced with fear or doubt, or even shame. The world was still _normal_, and it was good to remember that.

But Elsa envied the ease of Jack's friendship with the human boy. Jack opened up so easily, and it seemed like he had many friends. He _fit_ here, in this new world. He had adapted and accepted the changes that, Elsa assumed, had come slowly and over time. Here Jack was, talking as if he were another human, too - as if he _belonged_. Jack was a denizen of both the mortal world and the immortal one, and Elsa wished she could fit in as seamlessly.

_And I_, Elsa wondered, _where do I belong?_

It wasn't here, in Jamie's room. The boy couldn't even see her and yet she was here, with Jack, like his shadow -

Yes, that's what she was: a shadow. Just a shade of her former self - her _real_ self, when she was still human.

_I don't belong here_, Elsa thought. She knew Jack was going to try and make her believe that she did, but she knew better. _I left too much in my past to be... to truly let myself..._

She sighed. Even in her mind, she couldn't find the right words.

Jack must have heard her sigh because he stopped in the middle of a sentence and looked at her. Jamie glanced over Jack's shoulder, the beginnings of a frown showing on his face.

"Actually," Jack said, turning back to Jamie, "I came to see you for another reason. Have you heard of the Snow Queen?"

"You mean that folktale by Hans Christian Anderson?"

"Uh..." Jack shrugged. "Sure? I haven't heard of the guy, but - "

"Hang on, I have the book around here somewhere." Jamie rummaged in his chest of drawers, glanced along his shelves, then peeked under his bed before pulling out a thick volume and hefted it in his arms. "Yeah, here we go," he murmured, flipping it open. "There's something about a kidnapped boy and a broken mirror, and a girl who was pure in heart... oh yeah." He tapped the page with a finger. "And apparently if the Queen kisses you three times, you die."

Elsa blinked in surprise and Jack sputtered, "t-that is not - uh, that's not true. It can't be."

Jamie raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He pointed to the book. "The story sounds a little off, but the Snow Queen's definitely real."

Elsa gasped. "No," she said. "Jack, what are you doing?"

He turned to give her a reassuring smile, and Jamie once again looked over Jack's shoulder to the room beyond - right at Elsa, who flinched. "Is she here?" Jamie asked.

Elsa shook her head desperately, but Jack continued, "yeah, she is - but she wouldn't kidnap anyone. She isn't cold-hearted; she's kind and compassionate. She... she's... "

Jack trailed off, but Elsa knew what he was thinking: she was beautiful and sad - the same phrase Jack had used to describe her that morning on the bridge, and the same words that had shaken her from the listlessness of an absent memory. Elsa was powerless to stop the hard lump from growing in the back of her throat, making it hard to swallow. Perhaps Jack would always see her that way; the description certainly fit her better now than it had then.

"And anyway," Jack rallied, smiling, "she's my friend."

Elsa clasped her hands together, trying to banish the anxiety that she could feel growing at the edge of her mind.

"Where is she?" Jamie asked, looking around.

"Here." Jack bounded off the bed and came to stand by Elsa's side. His smile faded when he looked at her, and it pained Elsa to see that. "It's alright," he said, holding out his hand. He was wearing that look again, as if he was afraid she might suddenly spring away from him or flee, and Elsa shuddered. _I will never hurt you again, Jack, _she thought, slowly placing her hand into his. _I will do everything to make you stop looking at me with worry in your eyes. If I have to pretend - today, tomorrow, for the rest of our lives - then I will._

_One of us should be happy, at least._

"Show him," Elsa said gently, giving Jack's hand a squeeze. "I'm ready."

Jack's smile returned. He turned to Jamie and moved his free hand in a little arc, flipping a snowflake between his fingers and into the air. "Believe," he said as Jamie reached up to catch it.

The snowflake burst into a cascade of sparkling ice, evaporating before the fragments hit the wood floor. Jamie looked up, right into Elsa's eyes, and his mouth fell open. "Whoa," he breathed. "You're... you're...?"

"The Snow Queen," Elsa supplied, relaxing a little. She tried not to smile at the way Jamie was gaping at her. "My name is Elsa."

Jamie nodded. He glanced at Jack and pointed a finger at Elsa, and Jack shrugged in response. "What is it?" Elsa asked, looking between them.

"Nothing!" Jamie and Jack said in unison. Jamie cleared his throat and stepped forward. "I'm, uh, I'm Jamie."

"Yes," Elsa said. "I'm pleased to meet you."

Jamie glanced between Elsa and Jack. "So, how did you and Jack meet?"

"We were in the same city, and... we started talking." Elsa could hear the warmth in her voice and she glanced at Jack, glad that when he met her eye, his expression held the same affection she felt. "It was... we just sort of... "

"Connected," Jack finished. He grinned at Jamie. "It was a long time ago, but it's still there. And we're here, together."

_Despite everything_, Elsa added silently.

"So are you a Guardian, too?" Jamie asked Elsa.

"No," she said quickly. "No, I'm not - "

"She's with me," Jack broke in. He ran his thumb soothingly up and down Elsa's wrist. "In a way, it's almost like she's a Guardian already."

Elsa smiled, but she held back her doubts. "How long have you known Jack?" she asked Jamie.

He thought for a few moments. "About a year and a half, I guess."

"That _long_?" Jack burst out, blowing out his breath in a huge sigh. "Wow, some Guardian I am."

"It was okay," Jamie said, giving him a sideways smile. "I knew you were out there somewhere, so it was easy to believe in you." He shrugged. "You aren't very forgettable, you know."

Elsa tried to ignore the cold flush of guilt that threatened to paralyze her. "So then you must know some things about Jack that I don't," she said, forcing her voice into an easy mixture of casual and teasing. "Some stories, perhaps?"

Jack looked back and forth between them, panic growing on his face as Jamie's eyes lit up. "Yeah," the boy said, "I've got a few that come to mind."

He had just finished telling her about the time when Jack turned the streets into an icy race course, resulting in a lost tooth, when there were loud footsteps outside the bedroom door. It opened just enough to allow a young blond-haired girl to slip inside. "Do you have my markers?" she asked.

Jamie sighed. "No. Why would I have your markers?"

The girl shrugged. "I dunno, that's why I asked."

"Is that - " Jack stepped forward. "Is that Sophie?"

"Yeah," Jamie said distractedly, turning back to the small girl. "I don't have your markers. Did you ask mom if she has them?"

Sophie hesitated for a few seconds then shook her head. "Can I borrow yours?"

Jamie crossed his arms. "Yeah, okay, but if you ruin them again, then I'm not letting you borrow my stuff ever again. Deal?"

"Deal," Sophie said, holding out her arms expectantly.

Jamie groaned. He rummaged in his desk for a moment before coming back with a neat box of coloring utensils. He handed them to Sophie, who scampered off, the box clutched to her chest.

"_That's_ Sophie?" Jack asked the moment she was gone. "She looks so... different."

"Yeah. She's in kindergarten now, so mom always makes her wear her hair pinned to the side like that so it's out of her eyes," Jamie said, shutting his door quietly. "She still likes to sleep on the floor, though."

"I'm sorry," Elsa broke in, "I suppose I missed something - who is Sophie?"

"My sister," Jamie said. He sighed loudly. "She's really become a pain lately. I guess all little kids go through some weird phases when they grow up, but sometimes she's just plain annoying."

"She won't be that way forever," Elsa said. She recalled the way Sophie held out her arms, like she knew she would be obeyed, and the delighted smile when she got what she wanted. Perhaps every little girl looked or acted that way when they grew up, but to Elsa, Sophie reminded her of Anna - all those expressions, the smiles, the pleading way of talking - Anna was in every one of them. She could see her sister's face now, in her mind -

_Am I forgetting her? _Elsa wondered. The thought struck her so forcefully that she gasped, suddenly feeling as though she couldn't breathe. _It's been so long - countless years between then and now. I remember her face and her smile and the effortless charm she had and her little quirks and her voice -_

_No... I can't remember her voice. _Horror shot through her and she covered her face with her hands. _I can't remember what she sounds like. I can't remember at all. _She remembered Anna's words, her constant question throughout the years - _"do you want to build a snowman?" _- but they were simply that: words. There was no voice that accompanied the memory, none at all.

_Remember! _she begged herself, squeezing her eyes tight and _forcing_ her brain to recall her sister's voice. _If I can't remember her voice, if she isn't there inside my head, then she's gone. She's gone, completely gone, like she's never been..._

_There's nothing of her left._

"Elsa?" Jack's arm circled around her back, tentative and gentle. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Elsa shook her head, but she couldn't speak.

He was quiet for a moment. "Would... would you feel better if we left?"

Elsa stiffened. Suddenly she remembered where she was. How must Jack feel, to see her break down in front of his friend? And Jamie - what did he think, to see her fall apart in the middle of the conversation? She shivered.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. _I'm pitiful_, she thought_. I can't even keep myself together_. She didn't want to look at Jamie, but she did; he was staring at her, a look of dismay frozen on his face. "Jamie, I'm so sorry. I'm - I'm not well. Please, forgive me."

He nodded jerkily. "Yeah, of course."

Elsa dropped her head and Jack's arm tightened around her. "We'll see you around, Jamie," he said. If he was displeased they were leaving so soon, it wasn't audible in his voice.

"Sure," Jamie said. "Whenever. I'll be here."

They climbed through Jamie's window, and Jack let the wind take them away. He kept his arm around Elsa as they flew, and she was glad of his touch; she still wasn't used to traveling through the air, and she didn't feel up to the task of pretending that she did. She also wasn't looking forward to the moment that he would ask her hat was wrong. Certainly he expected an explanation for her behavior - and wouldn't anyone, given the way she had just acted? - but she wasn't sure she had a satisfactory answer to give.

Elsa kept her eyes closed until she felt solid ground beneath her feet. Immediately she broke away from Jack, her hands creeping up to hug her upper arms. "I'm sorry," she said. "Jack, I... I didn't mean - "

He sighed behind her. "No, maybe I'm the one that should say I'm sorry. I don't know what upset you, Elsa, but - "

"Don't _apologize_!" she cried. She hunched her shoulders and dug her fingers into her arms. "It's me, Jack, it's all... it's all my fault."

"You said that before." The dry leaves of autumn crunched under his feet as he took a step forward. "I don't see how that's true. You aren't to blame, Elsa, I know you aren't. And don't say that this is about erasing your memories," he added as Elsa opened her mouth, "because I don't care about that anymore."

_That's not true. You know it isn't. _Elsa swallowed hard. "I can't keep it together. I'm falling apart... and the only thing about me that isn't is my powers," she said, realizing as she spoke that it was true. _I must feel comfortable with Jack on a subconscious level, because the ice within me always rages when I'm apprehensive_.

It was a nice consolation, but the recognition wasn't enough to curb her sorrow. "I'm imbalanced, Jack," she said, staring at her pointed shoes. "I'm sorry."

"I hoped that going to see Jamie would make you feel better, but it didn't," Jack said. "I just... I won't ask why you're so tormented, Elsa, but I don't want you to be unhappy, either. Was it something I said, or Jamie? Just tell me what upset you, and I'll avoid it in the future, I swear."

She held back a sob. _I don't deserve him, _she thought. _I never did. _"Not you," she managed, her voice shaking with tears. "It was never... it will never be you. Your heart is so pure and kind, and you've always..." Emotion choked her, and she fell silent.

Jack strode through the leaves to stand in front of her. "Please," he begged, "just tell me what's wrong."

He was wearing that face again - like he was afraid that if he said too much or moved too fast, she would take flight like a panicked bird. _And I promised I would never hurt him again, _Elsa thought. A tear slipped down her cheek. _Already another promise broken. Will there be no end to them?_

"I... I had a sister," Elsa choked out.

Jack's eyes widened. "You - you did?"

She shut her eyes and nodded. She brushed the tears away with her finger but they came faster and faster, a steady stream of hot salt that crystallized against her skin. "She was a lot like Sophie when... when she was younger... "

"I'm sorry," Jack said. She heard him step closer. His hand reached up to lightly cup her face, his fingers radiating warmth. "Elsa, I'm so sorry."

She could only nod.

"I used to have a sister, too," Jack said softly, and Elsa's eyes flew open. He smiled sadly. "It was a long time ago."

"What was her name?"

He shook his head slowly. "I... don't remember."

Elsa made a strangled sort of noise. She threw herself on Jack and wrapped her arms tight around him. _That might be me, _she thought. _In another hundred years, maybe two, I could forget Anna forever. _She buried her face against his neck. "Oh Jack," she gasped, trying not to think about it, or even imagine it. "Oh Jack, I - "

"I know," he said. One of his hands pressed against her back, holding her against him. "It's hard. It's hard to remember how they were, what they meant to you..."

Elsa took a trembling breath.

"But it'll be okay," Jack said. "Over time, things will get better. I know they will."

She knew he was right, but that was what terrified her. _I don't want to forget, _she thought, _not a single thing -_ but it was impossible. She knew it was. Time had already begun its slow work on her, and she knew there was no way to bring the lost memories back.

Instead she clung to Jack and tried to find solace in his arms.

* * *

They lingered until long shadows fell between the trees and the stillness of approaching night filled the air. Every word rang through the clearing, clear as falling rain, and when Elsa looked up at the darkening sky, the traces of memory were clear of her face. She told Jack Frost that she wanted to go and he carefully agreed, still treating her as though she was fragile. They flew away together as the last sliver of sun slipped below the horizon, and only then did Pitch Black let himself smile.

So the Snow Queen was out and about again. That was surprising enough, but what was more - she had her memory back. How Jack had managed that feat, Pitch didn't particularly care, but he had to admit he was impressed.

His nightmares would find out where they were hiding. And when they did - _well_, Pitch thought, _I may have to pay the Queen a visit._

A chuckle bubbled up in his throat and he let it echo through the air, dark and menacing. "It will be good to see you again, your highness," he murmured. "I can hardly _wait_."

* * *

**A/N: There will be more.**


	7. Devoid of Light

**A/N: Well, I have good news and bad news for you guys. The good news is that I bumped up the romance and drama (yay) and showed my hand a little for where my plot bunnies have been bouncing toward.**

**The bad news is that although I love posting once a week (I really do - it's been a nice little challenge for me, as well as inspiring), I've been neglecting some real life things I need to get taken care of. I'm not giving up this story by any means, but once-weekly updates probably won't happen for a little while, at least until I can catch up on my obligations.**

**Thank you so much for reading! I lot a lot of interesting comments about the last chapter, and I'm really curious to see what you guys will think about this one. :3**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

"And you're sure you don't want to go?" Jack asked.

Elsa couldn't hold back the smile, even though they had been over this before. It had been Jack's idea to go back to Jamie informally, just to talk, but Elsa had refused. After the incident several days ago, she didn't feel comfortable returning there, knowing what Jamie must think. She had been doing better in the days since - Jack had begun to relax a little, and his smile was less strained, which she supposed was as good a way to judge her progress as any - but not enough to go back.

Besides, she didn't want to tempt her raw emotions into a complete meltdown once again, especially if she happened to see Sophie, or if Jamie said something that was meant to be completely harmless.

She still felt terrible about the way she had acted. She wasn't ready to face Jamie yet - not so soon.

"I'm sure," she said, nodding. "I'll be better here, Jack."

Jack looked up at her, worry stark in his eyes. "But I don't want to leave you."

He had such a talent for uttering small, offhand phrases that managed to pierce her heart. Elsa swallowed, forcing the smile to remain in place on her face. "I'll be fine," she said. "I don't want you to worry about me."

The traces of a wry smile appeared on his face. "Easier said than done."

"Still," she pressed. "Please, Jack. I'll be right here. Where else would I go?"

He gave a slow nod and glanced at their surroundings: a shallow cave they had found in the mountainside, high up by the peak. "True enough," he said. "I mean, you have to admit - this place is way too interesting to leave, after all."

Elsa smiled weakly at his joke. She couldn't help remembering how they'd found the cave in the first place: the day after they visited Jamie, Jack had brought up the question about where they would stay. It surprised Elsa; back when she was still human, it would have been utterly indecent to stay overnight with an unmarried man. She knew Jack wouldn't hurt her - he always touched her so carefully, as if he didn't want to scare her away - but still, it was a strange concept to think about. With Pitch...

Well, with Pitch the situation had been very different.

So she had nodded and agreed that they needed someplace to stay. Jack, very naturally, mentioned the tower Elsa had built in Antarctica. He suggested that she could build something else for them, something new, and Elsa went rigid. She'd been doing so well the last couple days, but in that moment she couldn't help it - her mind jumped from the tower to the castle she had made on the North Mountain, and then she remembered when Anna came to visit her there...

Her hesitation didn't last more than a couple of seconds, but Jack noticed. He immediately shrugged and told her they could do without 'modern comforts,' since he remembered a cave where he had spent some time in, many years ago, that overlooked the city. And when Elsa looked up at him, secretly relieved that he would not ask her to build something after all, he smiled in return.

_He is always so cautious, _Elsa thought, _and so careful not to cause me any sadness. _She appreciated it, even though she knew she was a burden. _I will get better, Jack, _she told him silently. _I promise I won't always be like this. Someday you won't have to carefully phrase your words or constantly watch to see if I overreact to your innocent words. With your help, I will heal._

_ And it will be because of you._

Elsa held out her hand. "I'll be here, Jack."

He took her hand in his and squeezed gently. "I know," he said, though his warm tone didn't match his eyes. He didn't believe she could be safe.

She stepped forward and wrapped her other hand around his. "Someday I will convince you," she murmured.

Hurt flashed through his icy blue eyes. He opened his mouth - no doubt to apologize - but Elsa held up her hand before his mouth. She could feel his warm breath prickling against her fingers as his gaze darted up to meet hers. "I'll be alright," she told him gently. "Just... don't be gone long."

Jack pressed his lips against her palm then pulled her hand down to his chest, where the v-shaped opening of his hoodie showed his collar bone. "I won't," he said, flashing her a quick smile. "I'll be quick as a bunny."

* * *

Elsa stood at the cave entrance long after he had gone. She watched the sun set behind the mountains and the city lights slowly blink on, one by one, then in waves. The stars appeared in the sky, scattered constellations she no longer remembered the names to, and all the world seemed peaceful and dark. Finally Elsa retreated to the back of the cave and stared at the snowy ground and the frost-touched stone walls. It was the first time she had been alone since Jack had found her on the bridge nearly a week ago, and she felt... what, exactly?

She wasn't scared. It was reassuring, because a part of her had wondered if she would be. She had been miserable before, after she'd left Pitch, when her memories pressed in around her. But now... She still felt the ever-familiar weight of guilt hovering at the edges of her mind, but it didn't suffocate her, as it had then...

She felt light.

Well, _lighter_, anyway.

It was an odd sensation. She didn't feel lost without Jack's presence, as she'd feared she would. She supposed that meant that she wasn't reliant on him for her happiness and stability, and that was good. It was a step toward healing and getting better - becoming _herself_ again.

The realization was a relief, of course. But she still felt...

...restless.

Yes, that was what the feeling was.

Elsa glanced over at the pile of snow in the back corner of the cave. Jack had jokingly called it his easy chair, though to Elsa it seemed more like a pile of lumpy pillows than a piece of furniture. Usually when Jack talked to her he liked to lean against it, so Elsa never got the chance to see it properly. As she studied it now, the shape of the snow vaguely reminded her of something. No, of someone.

"... Olaf," Elsa whispered. The name sounded foreign on her tongue. She stared down at it thoughtfully, recalling the small snowman she had magically and inexplicably brought to life, long ago.

_And I could do it again, _her mind whispered.

The thought stunned her. She wasn't that sort of person anymore - someone who could create castles out of ice, or make talking snowmen to entertain her sister. She didn't have it in her to do that anymore. She didn't... _deserve_ to be that person, anymore. She didn't have the right.

"I can't," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

Whether she was speaking to herself or Olaf, she wasn't sure.

A shadow fell over the scattered snow at her feet, and Elsa realized suddenly that there was no sound; the wind, which constantly shrieked as it swept over the mountainside and between the rocks, had gone still. The silence was eerie and strange, and a shiver traveled down Elsa's spine. She had felt this phenomenon before.

_No. _Elsa slowly turned._ It couldn't be. _

He stood in the cave mouth, tall and slim in his black cloak, looking very much like he did that day so many years ago when he first came for her. Elsa took in his motionless stance, his arms clasped behind his back, his gaunt cheekbones and golden eyes, which were fixed on her. She sucked in a breath. _And he's come for me again, _she thought, _just like before._

"The Snow Queen." Pitch's voice was like velvet. "My, how well you look."

"Pitch." In contrast, Elsa's voice sounded strangled and thin. Her fingertips began to shake with the unmistakable stirring of her powers and she hid them in the folds of her skirts.

"It's been a long time." He slowly advanced, and Elsa scrambled back. "Though," he amended, "not so long to you, I suppose."

"W-What are you doing here?" she breathed. Her eyes flickered between his face and his feet. If he came one step closer...

"Is it not enough to want to see an old friend?" Pitch asked. He took another step. "I simply - "

Elsa flung up her arm, willing the ice inside her to obey. It came faster and stronger than she expected, freezing into a wave of spikes that shot straight toward Pitch. He parried the attack, droplets of shadow splattering across the ground like blood. "Stop!" he shouted, but Elsa had already whipped out her hand in a second assault. Daggers of ice flew through the air, but Pitch dodged them all. He shrank into the darkness of the cave wall and Elsa, well aware of his skill in stealth, sprang into the center of the room, her hands ready in a defensive position.

She did not see Pitch slip out of her shadow until it was too late. She spun around, ice screaming from her fingertips, but Pitch caught her wrists deftly in his larger hands. "Let go of me!" she cried, straining against him.

"Listen to me. _Listen _to me." He waited until she looked up at him before slowly shaking his head. "I did not come here to duel with you."

"But you - "

"You attacked first, highness." He released her and stepped back, palms upraised. "As I said, I came here to see you."

Elsa couldn't stop the dubious question from leaving her lips. "Why is that?"

"Because I want to talk. Last time I saw you, you weren't exactly in the mood."

"Yes," Elsa said. She remembered the day he came to Antarctica, to see her in the tower. He'd only spoken to her for a few minutes before he grew tired of her obvious amnesia and left. "You told me I was lost to you."

"I did, and yet here you are - safe and sound, thanks to Jack Frost." He slowly lowered his arms. "For the record, though, I came to you first."

Elsa's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes," she conceded, "but it's not - it's not a competition."

"Of course it isn't," he agreed smoothly. "Just noting the passage of time. You've seemed to endure its' effects well enough."

Elsa blinked. She had forgotten how quickly and seamlessly Pitch could change the conversation. "I never noticed before, when I was - well..." Elsa lowered her eyes. "I didn't have time to notice such things."

"It was a nasty shock, I assume."

She nodded. "It still is. Everything is so different, and very strange. The entire world has transformed into something new, but I'm still the same." She glanced at him. "As are you."

"I did warn you about the immortality of legends and tales." The corner of his mouth lifted up in a smirk. "Isn't it _thrilling_ to be stuck as you are, forever and ever?"

"No. I feel like I don't... I just..."

"Don't belong?" he asked dryly. He looked away. "I know the feeling."

Elsa nodded slowly. She remembered the first day they met - in a situation that was so curiously like this one - and what he'd said about their similarities. He had held out his hand and showed her the darkness that dwelt within him, saying only, _"I, too, have a power that people fear."_

Fear. Was that not also a reason she had been pretending to be accustomed to the modern city? "Yes," Elsa agreed. "I suppose you must."

"But I forgot that you have Jack Frost," Pitch said, shrugging. Even after the many years they had been apart, Elsa could detect the layer of sarcasm hidden in his voice. "That won't be a problem for long, I think."

"He has been very kind to me." Elsa smiled, recalling his concern and encouraging words.

"And you trust him."

"I do, yes."

"Then you must have told him the truth," Pitch said pointedly, looking over his shoulder at her.

Elsa's eyes widened. She stared at Pitch and he stared back, waiting for an answer. "I - " she began, then her throat closed around her words and she swallowed.

"Ah." He slowly turned back to face her. "Not enough to tell him about the past, then."

She shook her head.

"Anna was once the dearest person in your life," he mused, "and yet - "

"I can't!" Elsa burst out. "Jack is a _Guardian_, and I... " She squeezed her eyes shut. "He would despise me if he knew."

Pitch shrugged indifferently. "He might, but at least you've only killed one person. That kind of statistic could almost be excused as an accident."

Elsa's hands closed around her upper arms. "But I - " she gasped. "I - I just - "

He raised an eyebrow at her stutter, then nodded as realization dawned on his face. "Well. Then it wasn't just an accident, after all."

She let out her breath in a rush. She still remembered the old troll's face and her moss-green eyes looking up at her expectantly, waiting. Wanting _her_ to grant the only thing she desired. "It was the price," Elsa explained haltingly. "I had to - to be free of my memories."

"An interesting form of payment," Pitch commented. "Speaking of, why _did_ you forcefully remove all recollections of the past?"

"I buried them," she corrected him.

"Because...?"

"Because I couldn't... _live_ with myself, remembering what I had done."

"You lived just fine before."

"Yes," Elsa admitted. "I did." She looked up into his golden eyes. "The memories... they weren't too much, when... when you and I... "

Pitch tilted his head to the side. "And now?" he queried. "How do you cope with them, now that you remember?"

"I don't," she said bluntly. The hard tone of her voice stunned her and immediately she hastened to correct herself. "I mean, it's been fine, here, with Jack. He tries - "

"But he doesn't _know_," Pitch finished for her.

Elsa shook her head. "It just isn't easy. I was too used to - " Quickly she cut herself off, worried she had said too much.

But Pitch was far too clever for that. "I see," he said, and his lips curved upward in his trademark smile. "You can have my assistance again, if you just ask."

"No." She stepped away from him. "I don't want to forget again - "

"You won't," he said, his voice soothing. "Don't tell me you don't remember how it works."

"I..." The truth was that Elsa did remember; the darkness took away the pain of the past, but it did not erase the memories. When she was with Pitch, Elsa had remembered the horrors of her parents' deaths and the coronation, all the way up to when Anna turned to ice before her eyes - but the emotion was gone. She recalled feeling sorrow and guilt, but they had not affected her until that evening when Pitch pushed her to kill Santa Claus.

That night... she had nearly killed again.

"You shaped me into a monster," Elsa said, shuddering. "I trusted you and relied on you - "

"I helped you with everything you asked."

"But you taught me your way to fight, and how to be cold and cruel - !"

"You learned that yourself," he said calmly, his words devastatingly simple.

And he was right. Elsa _knew_ he was right - everything he said was true. "You're lying," she said desperately, but Pitch shook his head.

"I never lie," he said, "much less to a queen."

She had no answer to that. _Murderer, _Pitch had once called her, and it was truer now than it had ever been.

Remorse rose inside her, threatening to swallow her whole. Elsa covered her eyes with one hand, stifling a sob. "Will it never end?" she gasped, turning away. "The sadness and heartache, will it never... "

"You know the answer to that."

She sucked in her breath. "But it would hurt Jack - "

"Perhaps," he said, his voice coming nearer. "But Jack Frost hasn't know the sort of pain you've experienced. He woke up without his memories; they have always haunted you."

Elsa brushed the icy tears from her cheeks. "He told me he had a sister."

"Yes, he's learned about her since. But that isn't the same, is it?"

_No, _Elsa thought_. Not quite. _

"What do you want?" Pitch asked. "You are not happy, so what do you want?"

Elsa looked up at him. His silent footsteps had brought him face-to-face with her, but for once Elsa did not feel that his gaze was judging her or seeing her as weak. For once the hostility seemed gone from his eyes, and when he looked at her, it was like he was looking at an equal.

"I want Anna back," she whispered.

"Not possible," he replied.

"Then I want to have peace from the pain of losing her," Elsa said. More tears formed in her eyes but they did not fall. "I know that forgetting her is natural and to be expected, but... but... "

Pitch's voice was soft. "Tell me what you want, Elsa."

Her name. He said her name so rarely -

Elsa blinked the tears away. "I want your help, Pitch Black."

His mouth stretched into a grin. Soft as a whisper, gentle as moonlight, Pitch pressed two fingers under her chin and tilted her face toward him. _I'm sorry, Jack_, she thought, her eyes fluttering closed as Pitch leaned down to kiss her.

* * *

Jamie was working at his desk when Jack arrived, the small lamp casting the side of his face entirely in shadow. Jack tapped the window and Jamie started and looked up, his cheek lifting in a smile. He dropped his pencil and hurried over, and Jack listened as the window lock popped open with a soft _click_. Jamie slid the window up and Jack climbed in, his feet landing soundlessly on the wood floor.

"Hey, I'm glad you're back again so soon." Jamie cleared his throat and shrugged awkwardly. "I don't know what happened the other day, but - "

"It's alright," Jack said, sighing. "Don't worry about it."

"Do you think I offended her?"

Jack smiled a little at the anxious note in his friend's voice. "No. She's just - she's just been going through a few things recently. Well, for a long time, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jack sighed. He looked up at Jamie, who was staring at him with wide eyes. _If anyone might understand what Elsa was struggling with, it would be Jamie, _he thought. Jack sighed again, reluctant to let out the truth even though he trusted Jamie completely. "She... she spent a while with Pitch."

"Pitch?" Jamie echoed, his mouth falling open. "Pitch _Black_?"

"Yeah."

"So she was like... like his ally, or something?"

"Or something," Jack agreed. He didn't like to think about what Elsa had really meant to Pitch Black, or worse - what _he_ had meant to _her_.

"Whoa," Jamie breathed. He blinked a few times as he processed the information. "How long was she with him?"

"Long enough," Jack muttered, crossing his arms. "I met her once when she was still with him, and she was different. She was sad, but she wasn't..." Jack searched for the right word and failed. "... like this. I don't know what Pitch did to her, or what he made her do, but he broke her spirit completely. I've been trying to get her back ever since."

Jamie nodded slowly. "If anyone can bring her back to herself, Jack, it's you."

Jack couldn't keep the desperation from his voice. "I hope so." Elsa seemed so fragile now - everything he did seemed to set her off. So he had to be careful, so very careful, in case he lost her completely.

It was those fleeting, delicate instances when she opened up that kept him trying. Every time she smiled or clasped his hand, he remembered the first time she touched him - the soft bloom of ice crystals on his face, her power interacting with his, and the comforting warmth that he knew was no mere coincidence - and how wonderful that was.

_Maybe_, he had thought, _I'm not meant to be alone_.

And he still didn't want to be alone. He was reminded of that every time Elsa reached for him, and he found himself thinking... no, more like hoping...

He stifled a sigh. How to explain? All of this was so new, so different from anything he had experienced in his three hundred years of life. When she looked at him, his mind was full of her. When she smiled at him, he had to remember to breathe. When she reached for him, he reached for her, and when she touched him, something inside him fizzled and glowed. Jack had never been overheated before, but he supposed his reaction was something like that. It was a dizzying, heady feeling, and he wanted more.

He wanted more of _her_.

Elsa. Her name was like a sigh in his mind. She was beautiful, elegant, and so breakable right now. He didn't want to treat her too delicately, but he also didn't want to frighten her with his strong emotions. It was a weird sort of balance game that he played, and Jack feared he was stifling her with his caution, but he didn't know what to do. He couldn't help but hate Pitch each time he thought about it. _If I ever see him again, I'll make him regret every moment he spent breaking down Elsa's self-confidence and poisoning her mind, _Jack thought angrily.

_I should have brought her with me. _He'd wanted to, despite Elsa's claim that she would be alright on the mountain by herself. He was going to bring her with him, somehow - wheedle her down, maybe, or even beg - until she said those words that completely shattered him: "someday I will convince you."

_It isn't you, _he thought, knowing she wouldn't believe him even if he told her. _It isn't that I don't trust you, Elsa. Not at all._

_ It's just that neither of us were meant to be alone._

"Hellooo," Jamie called, and Jack started, broken from his reverie. "You alright in there?"

"Yeah," Jack said. He shook his head to clear away his lingering thoughts. "Sorry. I was just... it worries me, sometimes."

"I can tell." Jamie gave him a sympathetic smile.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I just don't know how to get through to her."

"You will," he encouraged. "You're a Guardian, remember?"

"Yeah, well... " He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know how much a Guardian of Childhood and Fun can do in this situation. Elsa isn't like any of the kids I've been able to cheer up. Her problem isn't as simple."

"No, but I think being with her will help," Jamie said. "You're different too, Jack. Your optimism will rub off on her sooner or later. She'll get better just by being around you, I know she will."

Jack looked up. Jamie's words tickled his mind, reminding him of the real reason why he returned. "That's kind of like - that sort of the reason I came back," Jack said. "Remember that book? The one you showed us, the one called _The Snow Queen?_"

"Yeah." Jamie pointed to where it sat on top of the stack on his chair. "I reread it after you guys left."

Jack did a double take at the large volume. "You read that whole thing - ?"

"No, just the story. It's - it's a complete collection of stories by the author." He glanced back at Jack. "What about it?"

"You mentioned something about a character in the book being 'pure of heart'," Jack said. The phrase had stuck in his mind for days, ever since Elsa had tearfully labeled him as _too pure and kind _to hurt her - a phrase that, when she spoke, immediately reminded him of Jamie's curious synopsis of the story _The Snow Queen_. The rest of the story might not be true - and the part about three kisses being a death sentence was absolutely _wrong_, he was sure of it - but maybe there was a part of it that was. Maybe there was something in the story that could help.

"Anyway," Jack continued, "it made me wonder... well, what the rest of the story was about."

"Oh, sure." Jamie retrieved the book and held it out to Jack, who slowly took it. "Do you want to borrow it?"

"Uh... yeah, I guess... do you really want me to borrow it?" Jack asked. "I mean, you probably won't get it back in as nice a condition as you leant it to me. I mean, just saying. I don't exactly lead a very safe life - "

Jamie gave Jack a look. "Just take it."

"So if I ruin this, does it mean that you won't let me borrow any of your stuff again?"

"Ha ha, Jack," Jamie said, rolling his eyes. "You're not my sister, so I'm pretty sure I can make some allowances."  
"Alright, just making sure where we stand." Jack grinned and tucked the book under his arm. "Thanks, Jamie. I'll bring it back soon."

Jamie nodded. Jack climbed onto the windowsill, careful not to bang his staff against the glass, and paused when Jamie asked, "so, uh... then I guess you and Elsa aren't... you aren't really _together_, then."

"...no," Jack said after a moment. He shrugged off the word like it was nothing, but the motion was only half-hearted. "No, we aren't."

Jamie's only reply was a sad smile in return.

* * *

Jack wasn't sure what he would say to Elsa when she saw the book. Maybe it could be explained away as a bit of light reading? No, she'd see though him. Plus, she might have already figured out that Jack wasn't much of a reader to begin with.

He sighed. He guessed he'd just have to tell her the truth: that he was hoping the book could help. Maybe it would give them some idea about how to throw Pitch's lingering memory out of her mind, and help her be free. Even if it was something small, something that would help him understand, or that Elsa could identify with, then it would be worth it.

He hoped she would think so, too.

_Jamie's right, _Jack thought as he landed on the side of the mountain, snow spraying at the impact. _We need to be in this together. _"Elsa!" he called, striding forward through the snow to the cave. "Hey, I'm back!"

She didn't appear, and Jack squashed down the first inkling of fear that crept up his spine. _She's probably asleep or something, _he thought, forcing his gait into a steady walk. "Hey," he announced, ducking into the cave entrance. "I'm back from Jamie's... "

She was gone.

_Don't panic,_ he told himself, taking a step inside. It was silent - abnormally so. _There's got to be an explanation. She wouldn't just - she couldn't just leave -_

And then he froze. A spray of darkness was streaked across the ground, staining the snow and turning the rocks an oily black. Jack stepped forward, holding his breath as he nudged one of the shadow droplets with the end of his staff. It was soft and was definitely lifeless - completely unlike the black sand that Jack hoped it was. _The Nightmares didn't come for her, _Jack thought, his eyes narrowing. _It was the Bogeyman himself._

"Dammit," Jack hissed. "Dammit, _dammit_."

He shut his eyes. His mind was a raging haze of wrath, totally incapable of formulated thought. His hand gripped his staff so hard that his fingers went numb. "_Pitch Black_," he spat, his fury audible in every syllable.

He hoped Pitch was ready for a fight, because that was _exactly_ what he was going to get.

* * *

**A/N: There will be more.**


	8. A Star in the Dark

**A/N: Hey guys! Whew, is it good to be writing again. :D  
**

**I'm honestly surprised how split my readers are. There's about an even number of Jelsa fans and Pelsa supporters, and I completely didn't expect that at all. I love reading all of your reactions, and I have to admit that I'm split pretty much down the middle, too. That's not making writing this easy...**

**Well, this chapter turned out to be... not quite what I expected. I should have just named the title 'sucker punch,' actually, since I'm sure all of you will be surprised as well. But it's just a delay in the inevitable. It's gonna happen (you'll see what I mean when you get there).**

**My obligations still aren't finished (applying to graduate schools overseas is no piece of cake, everybody), so the next update will probably be delayed once again. But good news: I've already written part of it, so at least I won't be starting from scratch. Thank you for all of your support, reviews, favs, and follows while I push through Real Life. **

**Common disclaimers apply.**

* * *

Jack tried to think things out as he flew - what he was going to say to Pitch, how he'd have to duel the Bogeyman to get Elsa, and how Pitch was probably waiting with that smug, evil, arrogant grin on his face - but he couldn't organize his thoughts into a semblance of cohesion before all of his anger came rushing back.

Pitch was going to suffer. Jack would _make_ him suffer. He wanted to see the Nightmare King cower - no, writhe on the floor in agony, as Jack was sure Elsa was suffering.

_Elsa_.

Jack pulled his staff close against his body, trying to make himself as aerodynamic as possible. He couldn't alter the speed that the wind possessed - he had never wanted to, before - but now he wished he had North's snow globe to instantly transport himself to Pitch's caverns. He should have been there already, to wipe away Elsa's tears and pull her trembling body into a protective embrace.

She was probably so scared.

All Jack could see in his head was Elsa's face the last time he'd seen her, when she smiled at him so calmly, so reassuringly. She'd told him she was going to be fine, and she had been doing so well... she had been healing, for crying out loud, and he'd believed her. Like a fool, he left her behind, unprotected -

_My fault_, he berated himself as he had a hundred times since he'd stumbled back from Jamie's to find Elsa gone. _It's my fault. If I hadn't gone to find out more about that stupid story... I knew that Elsa still needed to be taken care of, and that Pitch was still interested in her..._

"Dammit," Jack hissed. He swooped between the misty clouds in a tight arc, the rapidly-approaching ground coming into focus as he shot toward it like an arrow. It wouldn't be too long until he reached the woods and the entry to the Bogeyman's lair, but that still wasn't fast enough for Jack. He gritted his teeth, willing himself to _hurry_.

If Pitch had hurt Elsa - if he'd reduced her to that shaking, tearful girl that she was before - if he'd injured her, or so much as touched her in any way -

_I'll kill him_.

The fact that the thought shocked only a small part of Jack's mind should have bothered him, but he wasn't in the mood to care. He had no doubt what the other Guardians would have said, but they weren't there. _Just me and Pitch_, Jack thought. He landed in a spray of fallen leaves and rolled to his feet, not bothering to pick off the strays that clung to his hoodie and then reluctantly fell away as he walked. _Just the two of us. And if something happens to him - if our fight does kill him - _

_ Then I don't think I'll mind._

He strode to the hole in the ground that served as the entry to Pitch's domain and dropped himself inside. He landed in a crouch on the cold concrete and straightened, gazing at the familiar shadowy sight of the Bogeyman's home. He flipped his staff over his head and slammed the end on the ground, listening with pride as the sound boomed through the darkened caves. "Pitch Black!" he hollered. "Come out! Show yourself!"

He waited until his voice faded into silence. Apart from the small cascade of unseen rocks, there was nothing.

So Pitch wanted to play this game, did he? Well, Jack had no patience for it. "Bastard!" Jack shouted, swinging his staff sharply upward. Streaks of frost and ice shot up toward the ceiling, striking one of the old cages that had once held countless of Toothiana's baby teeth. The ancient chain snapped and the cage hurtled down, splintering with a terrible crash into a mass of twisted metal and deadly frost. "Face me!" Jack screamed over the echoing din. "You coward!" He glared into the shadows with narrowed eyes, his muscles tensing as he waited for the blur of darkness and yellow eyes that he knew would betray Pitch's hiding place. "Pitch Black! _Fight me!"_

"He isn't here, Jack."

Jack whirled around, his staff raised in an attack position. Then his brain registered the identity of the speaker and he froze, his eyes widening. Elsa stepped out from behind the ruin of Pitch's skeletal globe, one hand trailing along the rusted edge of Africa. Her icy blue gown was luminous in the half light, the tiny crystals sparkling like morning dew. Her eyes were blue as the sky, blue as the oceans as they met his, and Jack felt his terrible anger begin to slip away. She was like a sculpture of ice, beautiful and perfect - no, like an angel, her majesty too flawless and bright for him to look at directly.

In the darkness, she was a star.

"Elsa," Jack breathed. He dropped his arms, staring at her. Elsa stared right back at him, waiting for him to say more, and Jack opened his mouth to say something, anything -

_No_, he thought abruptly. _No, this isn't right. Something's wrong_. He had come here expecting to battle Pitch for a scared, fragile girl who would have burst into tears of relief at the sight of him, or maybe even a girl who had withdrawn into herself to escape the horror of being kidnapped by Pitch -

But Elsa was doing none of those things. She was standing tall, wearing a mild expression as she met his eyes. She had never looked like this in recent memory - not even when she was in Antarctica - and Jack couldn't stop the doubts that began to creep into his mind. Was she under some sort of spell? Had Pitch brainwashed her somehow? _That sounds like something he would do_, Jack thought, his hand tightening around his staff.

"He's gone," Elsa said, and Jack met her eyes once again. "It's nighttime somewhere in the world, so Pitch went to attend to his duties."

"_Duties_?" Jack echoed incredulously. Yeah, Elsa was totally brainwashed. "Is that what he calls torturing little kids with nightmares? _His duty_?"

Elsa blinked She swallowed, lowering her eyes uncomfortably, and Jack took advantage of the hole in Pitch's spell to take a few steps closer. "Did he say when he would be back?"

"No."

"Good." Jack held out his hand. "Then come with me. We can be long gone by the time he returns."

She looked up at him, her eyebrows scrunching together. "No, I'm not leaving."

"Yes you are. I know you don't want to be here - "

"But I do." Her hand curled around the southern-most tip of South Africa, as if her grip alone would keep her from being dragged away. "I want to stay here."

Jack took a breath and tried to keep the impatience from his voice. "Elsa, c'mon, I know you're in there. I know you would never willingly choose to be with Pitch."

"I did."

"But you _wouldn't_."

"But I did, Jack." She looked at him solidly, and Jack realized in dawning horror that there was truth on Elsa's face. Her serenity didn't come from being brainwashed - it came because she had made a decision.

And she was planning on sticking to it.

"No," Jack said. "No, I don't believe it."

Elsa raised her chin. "It's true, Jack."

"No," he said in a hard voice, "it isn't. What about your fear of Pitch? What about what he did to you?"

"He didn't do anything to me. I did it to myself." Her voice was carefully monotonous, but he caught the slight waver at the end of her words.

"That isn't true, and you know it! What about the battle that you had with Pitch in the cave? I saw the darkness he left behind, Elsa. He beat you, so he brought you here - "

"I asked him to bring me here!" she interrupted. "I wanted to come!"

"No! You wouldn't have left like that!" Somehow his open hand had turned into a pointing finger and he jabbed it at her angrily. "The Elsa I know wouldn't have left like that, without telling me or leaving me a note, or - or something!"

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut. "I know," she said, angling her body away from his. "I know. I just... "

"Stop covering for him!" Jack snapped, and then he caught himself before he could say any more. His anger wasn't at Elsa, after all. "Where is he?"

She slowly shook her head. "I told you."

His words were mocking. "And he trusted you enough to leave you alone?"

"I'm alright by myself."

"That's what you said last time," Jack said bitterly.

Elsa turned back to face him. "Jack, I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I... I've hurt you. I've always hurt you."

Was that really why she left? Was that really, honestly, why she went back to Pitch? "I don't care about that," he fired back. "Elsa, you were getting better. You were _healing_, no thanks to Pitch. It doesn't matter what you do to me, so long as you're becoming more like your old self."

She shook her head over and over again. "No," she moaned. "No, no, no. Jack, it's not... I'm not ever going to get better - not the way you want and expect."

He opened his mouth to argue with her, but she gave him a painful look. "I told you that I had done some things in my past, and it's... they are things I can't... I haven't been able to forget." She swallowed. "Not by myself."

"What do you mean?" Jack stepped forward. "Are you trying to forget your past again?"

"No," she said. "I don't want to forget, but I just don't want to feel the guilt anymore."

Jack clenched his jaw. "And you think Pitch will do that for you," he finished, knowing where this conversation was going.

"He helped me when I was with him before," she admitted softly. "So when he came to me in the cave, I couldn't tell him no."

_Couldn't_. Just like that. Elsa had gone back to Pitch because she _couldn't_ say no. Jack turned his head away in an attempt to disguise his disappointment and frustration. _And just what does he do that I can't? _he thought, but didn't ask. He figured it had to do with darkness or manipulation, and he wanted to knowledge of what Elsa had subjected herself to. That would make him even angrier at her, and he didn't want to be.

Instead he ran Elsa's words over in his mind and forced himself to ask slowly, "you say you feel guilty, but why? You haven't done anything to make Pitch's tricks be successful."

He watched as she gulped. "I can't tell you, Jack."

"Why not?" he asked, unable to stop himself. Why was it so difficult to keep his anger in check around her? "Oh, let me guess: did Pitch ask you not to tell, or - "

"_I just want you to think well of me_!"

Jack didn't respond. Elsa blanched as her words ricocheted off the slanted walls and broken arches, but Jack could only stare at her in stunned silence. _Was_ there something she had done? Was there some truth to her belief that she was to blame for a crime?

No. No, that was _impossible_. Elsa couldn't do anything truly heinous, that just wasn't imaginable. It couldn't be.

But the look of horror and self-hatred breaking across Elsa's face brought the first flicker of doubt to Jack's mind. _She isn't capable of evil_, Jack thought. ..._is she?_

She turned away completely now, her train shimmering with the iridescent beauty of snowflakes and frost. "It would be best if you left, Jack," she said quietly. "Go quickly, before Pitch returns."

Pitch. He was probably the one who had made Elsa do what she now lamented. "No," he said, so firmly that Elsa turned around to look at him. "I'm staying."

She stared at him as if he had gone mad. "But he could be back at any moment - "

"And when he does, I'll be ready." Jack flipped his staff over in his hands and held it cross-wise before his chest. "It's time we settled this, Elsa. Believe me, Pitch has had this coming."

"You'll fight him," she whispered.

The corner of his lips tipped upward. "Oh, yeah. Absolutely."

"No!" Elsa took a few steps toward him and then abruptly stopped, as if caught at the end of an invisible rope. "Jack, if you did that, you'd be no different than Pitch!"

"We are nothing alike!" he shouted, but he knew even as he spoke that he was wrong. The fact that they both wanted Elsa was only the last in a long list of similarities and comparisons between them.

He hated that.

Elsa shook her head slowly. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "You were the light I never had, Jack. You gave me the opportunity to be a different person, to be innocent and free... but that's not who I am. I can't pretend that, not anymore, and I know that if I do, I'll just corrupt you, too. So don't... " She swallowed. "Don't come for revenge. Don't be like Pitch, Jack. Don't be like him."

Jack stared at her, lost in the complex puzzles of her words. It didn't make any sense. So she wanted to be with him... but she didn't, because she couldn't be herself?

And he didn't want to fight Pitch for _revenge_.

Well, not entirely, anyway.

"Don't ever change," Elsa whispered, her voice sad and pleading.

Jack sighed. "Elsa," he beseeched her, "if you'd just tell me - "

"I can't." She turned away from him completely, then, and Jack knew the action for what it was: a dismissal.

_For now_, he thought, touching the end of his staff gently against the ground. "Whatever Pitch does to you, it isn't right," Jack said slowly. "Are you really happy, living like this? Are you as happy as you were when you were with him before?"

Elsa's shoulders tensed, and Jack knew she was remembering the conversation they'd had when they first met. _No_, he told her silently. _You aren't happy. Just like_ _you_ _weren't happy then_.

"Darkness doesn't fix anything," he told her. "You knew that once, Elsa, and one day you'll remember it again."

"Just go." Elsa's hands curled into fists at her sides.

"Pitch's shadows won't help you," he continued, as he she hadn't spoken. "It only has the power to destroy. It can't heal you."

"Jack, please - "

"You'll remember, Elsa," he said, the conviction in his words making them strong. "I'll help you see that it's true, no matter what - "

"Get out!" She spun around, ice spraying out of her hands in a deadly arc. Jack skipped back just in time and looked up, catching sight of the stark horror on Elsa's face. Her eyes darted to her hands and then back up at him. With an effort she lowered her arms to her side once again. "Just go," she said, moving her head sharply away.

Jack shoved his free hand into his hoodie pouch. "Fine," he said, turned away. He leapt into the air and let the wind carry him away, out into the open sky and into the bright sunlight. He wondered if Elsa had lingered to see him leave.

If Pitch really had gotten to her, then probably not.

* * *

Elsa watched Jack until he became a tiny speck of color against the bright sky. Even when she knew he was gone, she kept straining her eyes for him, certain she could still see his tousled silver hair and lanky silhouette if she only pushed herself.

"_Don't_." Pitch's words came back to her from just the night before, as he pulled away from their kiss." _Don't fight against the lure of the shadows._ "

"_I won't_," she'd whispered. She'd fully meant those words, then. She had no reason to fight the sweet oblivion of anesthetized emotion.

And then Jack came.

Elsa's heart was beating fast, like the pulsing beat of a raging storm. She unclenched one of her hands and pressed it against her chest, trying in vain to soothe away her anxiety. She'd known Jack would be upset - she'd known that. But she had never seen such raw, unbridled fury in all her life. Elsa shuddered, remembering how that dangerous light in his eyes had fallen on her. For a moment she could believe that his anger meant for Pitch had really been for her -

_Me, and all my past crimes._

She had never been more relieved that she'd gone with Pitch. At least then Jack would never know what she had done.

And yet his face had changed, all his emotion going slack when she admitted that she had left voluntarily. _And when he looked at me, he looked so hurt, so injured, like it was a betrayal. It _was_ a betrayal, and I had been the one to hurt him, once again -_

Elsa clenched her fist in the delicate gauzy weave of the ice fabric above her collarbone. She expected it to snap and crunch in her hands, but it was stronger than she expected. _Jack..._ She stared up at the sky, wishing she had found the right words to say so he wouldn't have been hurt. She wished she didn't make him so miserable every time they spoke, but he asked too much. He'd always asked too much, even from the first day they met -

A gentle breeze ghosted against her neck, and Elsa stiffened. "Well done," Pitch's low voice murmured behind her. "You sent him off better than I ever could."

She turned to glance at him. "Pitch. I thought you left."

"In a manner of speaking," he agreed smoothly, his footsteps a whisper on the cracked pavement as he came up close behind her. "I arrived in time to see the crescendo and your glorious finale."

"It wasn't glorious," she said softly, turning away again.

"No?" His fingertips trailed across her back, from one shoulder to the other. Elsa barely suppressed the shiver that skittered up her spine. "I haven't seen you this strong, this powerful, since... well, since you were by my side all those years ago."

Elsa shook her head. He thought she was strong? She had felt anything but. "I hate arguing," she explained. "I always have, especially with the people that I... "

Pitch's fingers stilled. "Yes?"

"The people that I care about," she finished quietly. She held herself still, in case the statement would enrage Pitch or tempt an influx of his trademark bitter musings.

But Pitch did neither. He was silent for a few moments, and then chuckles, deep and soft as the touch of velvet, began to bubble up from behind her. "That's unfortunate," he said. "I find that altercations between clever minds are terribly interesting. Not that I've have the experience in a while," he added thoughtfully.

Elsa tried to smile at the clever minds compliment, but her lingering uneasiness butchered the attempt. "I'm not sure I can find joy in something like that," she said slowly.

"I know."

"It's just that Jack - " She paused, only then realizing what he'd said.

But Pitch was already pushing the conversation forward. "Yes, Jack Frost. You shouldn't worry about him; I'd be surprised if he returned any time soon."

Elsa turned to face him. "Why?" Pitch didn't understand; Jack wouldn't give up so easily. He may have accepted her explanation for now, but he'd be back. He always came back - her experience in the tower taught her that.

"Because you chose me over him," Pitch said. He, too, was looking toward the distant sky.

"That's not what this is about," Elsa said, her eyes narrowing. "That isn't why I left - "

He gave her one of his sly smiles. "Of course. But he won't see it that way."

Elsa swallowed.

"I can imagine what he might be feeling: anger, grief, frustration, despair, hatred - "

"Hatred?" Elsa broke in, her eyes widening in shock.

Pitch nodded. "It's a natural feeling, of course. I know it well."

_No_, Elsa thought. _No - Jack, hate me?_ But she had left for her own good, couldn't he see that? She couldn't cope, couldn't heal, so she had gone to Pitch because he had been the only one who had been able to relieve some of her misery.

But Jack couldn't know that. She hadn't told him - she still couldn't tell him the truth, not even now - and she knew that it would hurt him. _Betrayal_. Yes, of course, that would be what he thought it was. But because of... because she'd chosen Pitch?

_Why would that hurt him...?_

_Unless..._ Elsa sucked in a breath. _Did he... did he feel... something for me? Something beyond his natural kindness and concern?_

_Was that why his eyes had been so full of pain?_

"No," Elsa whispered, but even as she uttered the word, she knew it was true. All those looks, those rare smiles, those fleeting touches, those times where he didn't give up on her, when he always came back - that was because he cared about her.

_He cares_. The idea was so sudden, so foreign in her mind. She stared, unseeing, at the ground as the words echoed again and again in her head. _Jack cares. About me_.

_And I... what do I feel?_ The thought startled her, and she realized she didn't know how, exactly, she felt about Jack in return. _Do I... care about him, too?_

"It pains you, I see," Pitch said. His eyes flickered over her, and as Elsa met his eyes, she saw there was a sort of satisfied look in those golden depths. "Well," he murmured, "shall I take that away from you?"

"No - " Elsa tried to pull away, but Pitch's arms were already around her, holding her close. She struggled against him, but Pitch was taller and he had braced one hand against the back of her neck, keeping her immobile. The moment his lips touched hers, the fight in Elsa died. She slumped in Pitch's embrace, lost in the darkness that swept over her, erasing her agitation. Then when Pitch began to pull away, she came back to herself, her pale fingers curling against the skintight fabric of his cloak. She rose up on her toes, her neck craning as she searched for his lips again. Her eyes fluttered closed, so she didn't see the twisted smile that curled Pitch's mouth as he lowered his head to kiss her again.

"What did I tell you, Elsa?" he purred as she sank back down to her normal height and buried her face against his chest.

"Don't fight," she replied sleepily. Pitch's voice was like a melody, a dark rhythm that lulled her down toward the shadows. So heavy, so soothing.

"That's right." He squeezed her shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin. She didn't flinch. "That's right," he repeated softly. "So _stop fighting_."

* * *

Jack went back to the cave. He opened Jamie's book to the story of The Snow Queen and read it. Then he read it again. Then he read it one more time for good measure.

It was an odd story, he decided as he flopped on his back in the snow. There were too many weird things in it to be taken seriously - like the part with the talking flowers and reindeer, which was stupid, because _of course_ they didn't talk - and it obviously wasn't really a history of Elsa's past, since he was sure she had never been so despotic.

But there were enough similarities to the current situation that Jack was glad he'd read it. His hunch about the story was right - the story clarified some things about Elsa and the sort of problems that she was facing.

And he was the only one who could help.

For starters, he'd probably have to fight Pitch. No - once he explained things, Pitch would be so angry that he'd _want_ to fight Jack. The truth would be out in the open, and a duel would be inevitable, then.

Maybe the Bogeyman would even be expecting it.

_Don't be like Pitch, Jack_. Elsa's words echoed in his head, tinged with the same sadness that she had worn on her face earlier that day. _Don't be like him_.  
_Don't ever change_.

"I'm not," Jack whispered. He stared up at the dim cave ceiling above him and remembered the few nights, not so long ago, where Elsa had curled up at his side. Her soft, warm breaths had tickled his neck and her hand had curled in a fold of his hoodie, her touch hesitant even in sleep. Now Jack turned to look where she had been, the silence and the frigid air a bitter reminder of what was missing.

"It's you who's changed, Elsa."

He needed to talk to North. He'd definitely know something that would help, especially in a fight against Pitch. Jack smiled, imagining the look on North's face if he asked to borrow one of his fighting sabers. Yeah, North would never let that happen, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.

And he'd have to report what happened to Elsa - that she was, once again, with Pitch. She wasn't dangerous - it didn't look like she had been recruited for another chance at a hostile takeover of the world - but still, at least one of the Guardians should know.

At least North wouldn't tell him 'I told you so', like Bunny would.

Before long, Jack was in the air again. _It feels like all I've done is fly from place to place_, he grumbled to himself, and once again wished for the convenience of North's snow globe. _Maybe I'll have to steal it from him when he goes in for one of those huge hugs of his_, he thought.

It didn't take too long to get to the North Pole, and soon Jack was striding past his favorite Yeti, Phil, and up towards Santa's personal workroom. He didn't bother to knock when he opened the door - that was the sort of action that would put him on the Nice List, and even as a Guardian, he was less interested in the prospect than ever - but he wished he had when he saw who was inside.

"What are you doing here?" Jack demanded, outraged.

"Well that's a fine way to say hallo," Bunny said with a smirk. "G'day to you too, mate."

* * *

**A/N: There will be more  
**


End file.
